


The Hand That Holds

by Creme13rulee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Deaf Character, Deaf Culture, Deaf Yuuri Katsuki, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Phichit Chulanont Is a Good Friend, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Strangers to Lovers, Wingman Phichit Chulanont, all my fics are doing things to yuuri, hearing loss, viktor comes to terms with going deaf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-06-19 21:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creme13rulee/pseuds/Creme13rulee
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov is dealt a diagnosis : complete hearing loss within five years. Already dealing with the nearing retirement age in competitive skating , Viktor feel like his life in ending. Until and off hand suggestion  sent by his best friend sends him into the chat room of Deaf skater Yuuri_K and phichit_chu, to a last minute flight across the world... and into Life and Love.





	1. Viktor, needing

  


Viktor  hasn’t left the house in two days. 

  


Yakov knew about it. Of course he did , as his coach. He’d been the one to schedule the physical. The one to bother viktor into all the hearing and diagnostic tests.  At the last appointment six months ago the outlook had been hopeful.

  


Two days ago, not so much. 

  


Yakov had been right. He had more trouble catching his coaches comments across the ice. The air vents broke one day, sending a low pitched incessant buzz that drove everyone else to take an early day. Viktor didn’t notice until Yakov waved him in. That had been the Second talk.

  


Viktor didn’t allow a third talk.

  


None of the other skaters knew that viktor would be Deaf before he hit 35 ( if he was lucky. If he kept going at the fast plummeting rate he had… it would be before 30.) yakov didn’t make it clear if t was the gravity of the situation or the fact that he didn’t trust anyone to keep his mouth shut. Viktor wasn’t sure he trusted anyone to keep quiet either.  He was still the living legend, son of Russia. 

  


No one could know. 

  


Except chris. 

  


Chris (๑･̑◡･̑๑) :  how are you holding up? Out of  bed?

  


Viktor: on the couch.

  


Chris: better. Thought of something today

Viktor didn’t reply. Chris would tell him anyway.

  


Chris: it might help to talk to someone who has gone through

  


Chris:...what you will.

  


Viktor: sure. I bet there’s tons of deaf ice skaters out thee

Chris: you don’t know that, mon cherie. The internet is an amazing and terrifying place.

  


Viktor sighed. Chris was right.  And nothing was more satisfying than being More Right than Chris. He opened google, tapping  ‘ deaf ice skating’ in english.

The first few  websites were typical: wikipedia articles, news about the special olympics. Nothing helpful.

  


Then, something new. The third link: ‘ Deaf Skaters Anonymous: Discord Channel’.

He’d heard of the app before-- Chris’ boyfriend was into gaming, and it apparently was a more cool version of skype.

There was no way he could log in on his personal account though. He logged out, using his throwaway email to make up a new name.

  


Poodle-luvr has joined the channel. Hello!

Phichit-chu: FRESH BLOOD!

Phichit-chu: OR YUURI FORGOT HIS LOG IN AGAIN???????

Yuuri-k: no?

Phichit-chu: NEW BLOOD NEW BLOOD NEW BLOOD!!

Yuuri-k: your going to scare poodle

Poodle-luvr: hello! (^^)

Phichit-chu: HELLO POODLE WHAT BRINGS YOU TO THIS CORNER OF THE INTERNET?

Phichit-chu: we NEVER have people join the channel. Tags and all!!!!!

Poodle-luvr: I was looking for information about deaf skaters

Phichit-chu: today is your lucky day!!!! ONE of us is that lmao

Yuuri-k: phichit is ½ of one

Phichit-chu: lmao if only

Poodle-luvr: ????

Phichit-chu: @yuuri-k is Deaf, I’m a KODA

Poodle-luvr: KODA?

Yuuri-k: Kid Of Deaf Adults

Phichit-chu: ^^^^

Phichit-chu: shouldn’t you know this? If you're like, researching?

Poodle-luvr: well… I’m still learning

Yuuri-k: school paper? 

Phichit-chu: a really sad one, if poodle wants to learn from US

Poodle-luvr: more like… wanting to join the club?

Phichit: ARE YOU DEAF?

  


Yuuri-k: omg phichit, pls

  


Phichit-chu: ONE OF US ONE OF US

  


Yuuri-k: PHICHIT

  


Poodle-luvr: well… I’m about 60%... a few months ago I was 80%... so, soon.

Yuuri: sorry 

Phichit-chu: WHY

Yuuri-k: ?

Phichit-chu: nothing to be sorry for!

Yuuri-k: its different when it happens later

Phichit-chu: how would you know

Yuuri-k: mom is still weird about me. Still sucks

Poodle-luvr: sorry, I’m lost

Phichit-chu: hi lost

Yuuri-k: PHICHIT

Yuuri-k: this is serious

Yuuri-k: maybe we can help

  


Viktor felt something in his chest unwind as he sat on his couch, text appearing rapid fire on his screen.

  


Help.

  


Deaf skaters. (Eager ones, at that.)

  


Poodle-luvr: no stopping it, sadly. Wanted to see if I could keep skating

Phichit-chu: totally, dude. Yuuri and I  skate!

Poodle-luvr: to...music?

Phichit-chu: oh hell yes

Phichit-chu:  to beyonce even!!

Yuuri-k: it helps if theres more bass

Phichit-chu uploaded a video

Yuuri-k: phichit no uploading!!1

Phichit-chu: you said no social media!!

Yuuri-k: what happens in rink stays in rink

phichit-chu : :(

Poodle-luvr: thank you

Poodle-luvr: that's the first time I’ve laughed in weeks

Phichit-chu: single ladies put your hands up!

Yuuri-k: peach im going to to kill you

Phichit-chu: too bad you love me too much!!

Poodle-luvr: i'm sorry. It is really impressive. The triple toe loop is right on beat

Phichit-chu: totally worth the headache I got for blastin it

Poodle-luvr: you're not deaf?

Phichit-chu: before beyonce? No. now? Probably

Yuuri-k:  stop whining and get celestino to upgrade the sound system p

Yuuri-k: phichit and I skate together. There's a rink by CSD so we can do independent study

Poodle-luvr: CSD?

Phichit-chu: california school for the deaf. We go to school there

Poodle-luvr: school??

Yuuri-k: university

Yuuri-k: for Deaf people. And phichit.

Phichit-chu: :DDDD we’re ROOMMATES!

Yuuri-k: I was the only one who would take him

  


Viktor clicked out of the app to open his world clock

  


Poodle-luvr: shouldn’t you be asleep?

Phichit-chu: definitely

Yuuri-k: I don't have class until 2

Phichit-chu: sleep is for the weak

Phichit-chu: and those who don’t have overwatch

Phichit-chu: how about you, poodle

Poodle-luvr: it’s… opposite for me. Late evening.

Phichit-chu: INTERNATIONAL BLOOD

Yuuri-k:  phichit pls stop

Phichit-chu: if he wanted to leave he would've ]:)

  


Viktor laughs out loud for the second time that night, and it's the most he has for months.

  


The discord seems to be  more of a free texting app than chat, but Viktor is warmly welcomed into their ranks. A moment of curiosity turns into daily chats. Soon enough, Viktor is taking time to read messages  at the edge of the rink, wiping sweat from his brow after quick-fire drills.

  


Yuuri answers any question Viktor takes-- Phichit too, with a little sass.  Viktor immediately prefers Yuuri’s mannerisms to phichits, but he treasures them both. During lunch, the chat earns him some real interaction when he recognizes a viral video playing on Mila’s phone. Phichit shared it the night before, along with a hastily transcribed script littered with emojis.

  


Outside of Yuuri’s initial ‘sorry’, his hearing loss isn’t treated like a tragedy. More often, Phichit laments his status as a child of deaf parents.

  


Phichit-chu: yuuri, your burrito is done

Phichit-chu: and #304 is having some LOUD sex.  I can’t tell if its good or not.

Phichit-chu: I wish there was a good way to translate this so you can suffer too

Phichit-chu: does campus store sell ear plugs?

Yuuri-k: don’t know??? We can go to target

Phichit-chu : we both know we can’t afford target right now

Poodle-luvr: are ear plugs that expensive in america??

Phichit-chu: one does not simply walk into target

Yuuri: and not spent $50

  


“Off your phone, Vitya!” Yakov yells, although he’s only a few feet away, and his voice has a softer edge to it. Yakov’s caught him smiling at his phone again… and he’s being nice. Nicer since the last doctor visit.

  


Three weeks later, and Viktor grown close enough that he’s from generic questions to personal.

  


Poodle-luvr: are...are your names.. Real?

Phichit-chu: no. my real name is cotton-eyed joe

Phichit-chu: yes they are real, do you go outside??

Yuuri-k: I was born in Japan, my whole family's japanese. Japanese name

Phichit-chu: 2nd generation thai. 

Phichit-chu: well, I was totally born there when  my mom went back during the summer

Phichit-chu: that was an oopsie

Phichit-chu: but the rest of the time was california

Phichit-chu: so I grew up with ASL

Phichit-chu: mom only brings out thai sign when she's mad

Phichit-chu: and even then they’re pretty close

Yuuri-k: I went to a Deaf school in Fukuoka

Yuuri-k: so I had to take american sign since 

Phichit-chu: junior high

Poodle-luvr: you guys seriously finish each other's sentences?

Yuuri-k: no!

Phichit-chu: Im sitting next to yuuri. He didn't know the english word, so I translated

Poodle-luvr: from japanese?

Phichit-chu: from sign. Yuuri is really good at it. He even knows some thai!!

Yuuri-k: thank you and sorry doesn't count

Phichit-chu: it does at my house!!!!

  


He feels like a part of their friendship. They exchange daily goodnight/good mornings. 

Viktor begins to feel like he’s just a few doors away.

  


Phichit-chu: yuuri, burrito is done. Bzzz bzzz

Yuuri-k: sorry, was just telling poodle about hearing aids

Phichit-chu: dont do it bro-fam.

Phichit-chu: you weren't there watching yuuri loose $2000 down Splash Mountain

Phichit-chu:

Phichit-chu uploaded loss.jpg

Yuuri-k: its an option

Phichit-chu: you gonna get cochlear's next??

Poodle-luvr: what's wrong with cochlear implants?

phichit-chu : OO BOY

Yuuri-k: save it, p

Yuuri-k: hes old, remember?

Poodle-luvr: thanks, yuuri :P

Yuuri-k: don't scare him from Deaf culture p

Phichit-chu: POODLE SHOULD COME TO SUMMERFEST

Poodle-luvr: whats summer fest?

Phichit-chu: only the best week on campus. All the clubs have booths, they being food trucks. Drama departments does free stuff

Phichit-chu: yuuri and I are doing an ice show!!

Yuuri-k: skating demonstration

Poodle-luvr: when?

Phichit- chu uploaded an attachment

Phichit-chu: here’s the flyer! ;)))))

  


Viktor paused. He opened up the flyer. He knew Yuuri and Phichit right away-- even in the elegant poses crudely photoshopped onto the file. Phichit uploaded constant selfies to the chat, even when Yuuri floated in the background or posed with him.

  


Yuuri was gorgeous.

  


Viktor knew this well. He didn’t dwell on it, but he didn’t deny it either. (His camera roll didn’t either.) He looked soft and lean, perfect curves and soft brown eyes and dark hair that always looked tousled.  Blue glasses he hid behind when Phichit was teasing, and left on the bleachers at the rink.

  


Viktor might have a little crush.

  


Maybe a big one.

  


The plane tickets to LAX made it seem big.

  


But how big of a crush can it be if the other person doesn’t know about it?


	2. Viktor, Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments! They make me incredibly happy and motivated. <3
> 
> From this chapter on, the fic will be in present tense. I wrote chapter 2 and just could not get my brain into past tense. I had a friend check and hopefully its not too jarring.
> 
> While there is a real-life California School for the Deaf, the one in this fic (and its mascot) is entirely fictional.

It feels thirty degrees hotter in LA than it was in St. Petersburg. The uber he calls is thankfully air conditioned , but the driver plays a bass heavy bass that vibrates the bones in viktors tired body. His body says 1 am but the it is only 3 in the afternoon local time , and Viktor can’t waste any precious time. 

 

He’s known Yuuri and Phichit’s daily activities for weeks. They’ve been talking for nearly three months. And today he’s going to meet them in person. 

 

Poodle-luvr: what’s the name of the dining hall?

 

Viktor texts the discord app once he’s settled in his hotel room. It’s fairly nice but basic —- catered toward international students waiting for college housing to open. It might as well be a dorm room— but it’s probably cheaper to rent. 

 

Phichit-chu: Hagett. Nacho night baby !!!

Yuuri-k: it’s also closer to our dorm

 

Viktor switches to the CSD app and finds the cross street. Within two minutes an Uber is ready to drive him— 8 minutes, but Viktor doesn’t have time to waste. 

 

Poodle-luvr: front door or back? 

Phichit-chu: ???????!!!!!!!

Phichit-chu: wHAT

poodle-luvr: I decided to come for summer fest 

Phichit-chu: WHAAAAT

Phichit-chu: WE DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU LOOK  LIKE!!!!!!!!

Poodle-luvr: I’m… by a giant wooden bear?

 

Viktor’s heart jumps into his throat when he hears the metallic scrape of a table being pushed against linoleum and the scramble of feet. His whole entire body sings when he sees Phichit and Yuuri burst out of the glass doors leading to the dining hall. (of which he couldn’t enter. He may have a plane ticket, but he still lacked a student ID)

Phichit is wearing a black youtube t-shirt and jeans and a backwards baseball cap. Yuuri is wearing jeans rolled up past his ankles and CSD collegiate skirt, the bear screenprint cracked and worn from years of use.

 

Achingly familiar. Viktor could recognize them even without their faces. He’d almost prefer it. Phichit’s eyes are wide, and so are Yuuri’s. But Phichit looks like he’s won a million dollars, and Yuuri looks like he’s going to throw up.

 

“POODLE?” Phichit yells, his penchant for caps lock translating into real life.

 

“Phichit! Yes! Well, I suppose that sounds odd in person!” Viktor laughs in spite of himself.

 

“So… your name?” Phichits shock turns into a strange, knowing smile.

 

“Viktor,”  He answered, his eyes on Yuuri. Yuuri stares back, his cheeks flushed and his hand pressed to his heart.

Phichit  wheels around on his heel. “Excuse me!” He says again, too loud as he tugs Yuuri to a corner of the dining hall lobby. Viktor watches, with nothing better to do. Phichit’s arms fly all over the place, moving smoothly into different shapes. One sign becomes familiar-- a hand cupped close to the head, and Viktor figures it’s referencing a person. Probably him. Yuuri signs more slowly, but he is facing Viktor, if only at a distant. His first two fingers form a V, and mimic the swoop of hair Viktor finds familiar. He’s seen it in a mirror enough times in his life.

 

They’re talking about him.

He frowns-- sign language is anything but quiet. Hands slap forearms, thighs. Fingers snap and clap, and Phichit  _ sounds  _ energetic. There’s even the rush of air from Phichit’s lips, but none of it forms words that Viktor can piece together.

 

He’s completely lost.

 

There’s a ping from his pocket, and Viktor praises his international plan.

 

It’s a private message from phichit.

 

Phichit-chu:poodle, where are you right now?

 

Viktor sighs, but types up a reply anyway.

 

Poodle-luvr: a few meters away, next to a very strange looking bear.

 

It takes Phichit a second to read before he’s back to large movements. He runs back to face Viktor, Yuuri scrambling close behind.

 

“You’re Viktor Fucking Nikiforov!” Phichit says, still loud, copying his name sign hair-swoop, his fingers making shapes too quick for Viktor to read.  Viktor’s eyes flicker from Phichit’s face to his hands. He has no idea where to look. He wills his face into a smile.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“SORRY?” Phichit repeats, his hands still moving. “SORRY? This is GREAT, but also REALLY WEIRD!”

 

“Hi Phichit.” Viktor says meekly. “Hi Yuuri.”

 

“When were you going to tell us that you’re VIKTOR NIKIFOROV!” Phichit repeats, his tone slowly returning to a normal level.

 

“I… I didn’t mean to hide it. It never came up.” Viktor clears his throat. He imaged hugging them, eating dinner. Yuuri still looks sick, and has only managed a small wave.

 

“Whoah whoah. Stop.” Phichit shoved a hand in Viktor’s face, and he takes a step back. “Yuuri’s Deaf.”

 

“I know.” Viktor snaps, his already short nerves worn into nothing. 

 

Yuuri elbows Phichit, obviously tuning into something. Phichit drops his hand, but still signs as he talks.

 

“So… either slow down, or sign, or use writing. I’m not an interpreter, and to be honest, your accent is really thick.” Yuuri elbows him again. “And. I’m kind of. Shocked.” Phichit adds with some humility.

 

“Sorry.”  Viktor swallows back the lump in his throat, playing with the band of his watch. “I… don’t know any sign.”

 

“Okayyy…” Phichit says slowly.  “I’ll try… so like, you were? Going to tell us?” Phichit moves so he’s facing Yuuri and not Phichit, and Yuuri’s eyes immediately flicker to his roommate 

 

“I was, I just… I wanted to see you first. No one else knows about me going deaf. It’s a secret. Not even my parents.”

 

Viktor watches Yuuri, trying to ignore the movement in the corner of his eye. He can tell the exact moment Phichit finishes interpreting. Yuuri’s expression falls-- into sadness, and not pity.

 

Viktor thinks he’s in love.

 

“You should tell them.” Phichit  pipes up, his tone a little stilted. It takes a moment for Viktor to realize that he’s speaking for Yuuri, who is signing, his warm brown eyes locked with Viktor’s.

 

“It’s important to have a support net… system?” Phichit sounds unsure of himself, and he steps forward, tapping Yuuri  on the shoulder. They’re in another conversation Viktor can’t follow.

 

“Yeah. System.” Phichit confirms, and once again, Yuuri’s eyes are focused on Viktor again.

 

It’s nice. Really nice.

 

“Sorry for it being so weird. I’m a big fan, so it was kind of shocking.” Phichit voice narrates. Viktor watches Yuuri-- he could tell by the sign and his expression that ‘shock’ would be in the sentence even before Phichit translates it.

 

“Can you tell him it’s okay?” Viktor turns partially toward Phichit, whose expression immediately goes dark.

 

“Yo, I’m not an interpreter. Yet. But it’s common courtesy to talk to the person like they’re there. Tell him.”

Yuuri seems to be much more forgiving.. Or at least less up front about it. He offers a soft smile and an encouraging nod.

 

“Ah.. it’s.. Okay, Yuuri.” Viktor remembers the advice--slow down, or sign. He can’t bear to go back to the chat when Yuuri is right in front of him, in the flesh.

 

He definitely has a crush.

 

Yuuri’s brow furrows cutely, and his hand moves, his lips pursing.

 

“Yeah. He said okay. “ Phichit confirms, signing once Yuuri breaks eye contact with Viktor.

 

“He can read lips? I mean, you can read lips?” Viktor corrects himself-- Phichit wears his emotions on his sleeve, and however nerve-wracking it is.. It’s also helpful.

 

Yuuri holds his fingers a centimeter apart.  This Viktor can do-- he’s an internationally competing athlete. Gestures go across all language. He understands-- _ a little _ . He’s done the same in China and in Italy, in stores and on the street when his language ability was tested. Phichit reads the smile on Viktor’s face and doesn’t bother to translate.

 

Yuuri pulls his phone out of his pocket, his fingers flashing across the screen. He taps send, and the discord app buzzes with a notification.

 

Yuuri-k: it’s really hard to lip read. I only get about 20%, and a lot of it is guessing

 

Viktor nods after processing the message

 

Yuuri-k: but I don’t like writing messages all the time. Its slow, and I can’t look at people

 

Yuuri-k: plus people look at you weird if everyone is on their phone

 

Yuuri-k: not that it happens a lot to me. A lot of people here sign

 

Phichit-chu: well, he’s a noob. He doesn't know ASL

Yuuri-k: I didn't think he would. I mean, he told us he lives in Russia.

Phichit-chu: we can't exactly teach him an entire language in 3 days

Poodle-luvr: I...actually don’t have a return ticket

 

Viktor hears both of them gasp, in person. Yuuri looks up, his eyes wide and sparkling.

 

“You don’t?” Phichit chokes.

 

“I’m taking a break. It’s the off season, and I haven’t decided about skating next season. I need to start planning for the future.”

 

Viktor bows his head, going to type what he said into the chat. Phichit is frozen, and isn’t of much help.

 

Yuuri-k: do you have a place to stay?

Poodle-luvr: I do. Until next week, but it's a long-term hotel

Phichit-chu: good. We would totally let you crash on our couch, but we don’t think you’d fit

Yuuri-k: it’s not so much a couch

Yuuri-k: as a broken futon and milk crates

Phichit-chu: but we can teach you sign!! And skate with you!!

Phichit-chu: and maybe get a text-to-speech for yuuri!!

 

The lights flicker on and off-- a slow, deliberate way, as if light switches are being messed with.

 

“Ten minutes till close. It’s a tragedy, Queen Hagget of Nachos closes early!” Phichit announces, draping a dramatic hand across his face  in a pretend son

 

“I...I was hoping to eat with you guys.” Viktor fights back the gnaw of hunger that is letting itself be known in the pit of his stomach. He had been too excited to eat much on the plane, and it was nearing breakfast time.

 

“Let’s go to Beth’s!” Phichit grins.  Yuuri smiles, and any anxiety about visiting a person’s home vanishes.

 

Beth’s is not a home, but rather a hole-in-the-wall diner. There are crayon drawings and coloring pages pasted all over the walls, and the menus are sticky. The highlight of the menu is a 12 egg omelette, and none of the other food looks any more healthier.

 

Each menu item is numbered, and the waitress knows enough sign to get their orders without a word.

 

“I’ll have the 6 egg farmer’s omelette” Viktor says with a smile, and the waitress looks stunned.

 

“Sorry-- was that wrong?” The words slip out of Viktors lips before he realizes.

 

“Oh! No, sweetheart! I just… I figured you were all Deaf. Or like, non-verbal.” The waitress waves her hand and leaves. “Sorry!”

 

“That was...weird.” Viktor mumbles.

 

“Not really. It’s the cheapest and best place to eat by the biggest Deaf school on the west coast. Yuuri and I come here all the time,  and we just sign.”

 

“Oh.” Viktor feels his heart drop a little again. The familiarity and bond he felt with Phichit and Yuuri inches away from him bit by bit.

 

“ You’ll get used to it .” Yuuri signs, his soft smile smoothing the awkward edge a bit. 

 

Viktors eyes light up when he takes the first bite of the omelette.  It’s like heaven on earth, especially after a day of overpriced airport food. 

 

“Vkusno!” He feels slip out of his lips. Yuuri blinks adorably 

“What.” Phichit cannot translate. He’s slipped into Russian without realized 

 

“Delicious .” Viktors cheeks flush. He watches  as Yuuri smiles and places his hand to his lips before drawing it up from his face and touching his thumb and middle Finger, his face mimicking the expression viktor was sure was on his own face moments later.  He copies Yuuri’s movements , and Phichit looks almost proud. 

 

“You’re catching on quick.” Phichit shovels a fork full of cheese into his mouth.

 

“I should. I mean. I need to learn sign language eventually .”

 

“If you don’t mind American sign? I don’t know any people who use Russian. Yuuri’s studying Business and I’m in  the interpreting school. We’re not really qualified to be teachers.”

 

“I disagree. You’ve already taught me so much. .”

Viktor doesn’t go on. It’s a little early to lay it on: I feel so comfortable with you that I flew across the world on a one way ticket.

 

Yuuri is turning a cute shade of pink, his lips curving into a smile that makes Viktor’s heart skip a beat.

 

“It’s fun. Teaching you.” He signs.

 

Viktor wishes dinner would never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deaf culture: Name Signs  
> https://www.huffingtonpost.com/lydia-l-callis/name-signs-whats-that-abo_b_7301910.html
> 
> Name signs are given to Deaf people versus fingerspelling, and is a mark of being part of the Deaf community (deaf is a medical condition, Deaf denotes the culture). I gave Viktor one in this fic right away because I believe there is a 100% chance that Yuuri talks about Viktor Nikiforov enough that they NEED a name sign.
> 
> Phichit's name sign is the handshape 'P' moved from left shoulder to right hip in the sign for 'King', in reference for his love for the The King and The Skater movie. https://www.signingsavvy.com/sign/KING/1644/1
> 
> Handshapes for letters:
> 
> Yuuri's name sign at school is the handshape for 'Y' moved back and forth like the movement of feet in ice skating.  
> https://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/i/ice-skate.htm
> 
> In Japan, Yuuri's namesign is the 'Yu' handshape (like ASL W, with the back of the hand facing the observer) cupped in the left/other hand to imitate a bowl of katsudon.


	3. Yuuri, Skating

 

The next day Viktor wakes up at noon.  There is no trace of free breakfast in the hotel lobby, so Viktor drags himself to the  Denny’s restaurant a block down from the hotel. They boast unlimited pancakes and free wifi, which Viktor uses to sign up for Intensive ASL I.  After an evening with Yuuri, Viktor is ready to sign up and attend the university just to be close to him. But one quarter costs the entirety of what Viktor spent on his own degree. Soured by the cost and his inability to find out how to apply as an international student, Viktor was one hyperlink away from giving up. Then Community Education pops up, and Viktor can see a future past next week.

 

The gym is in his future too. Viktor feels another kilo sneaking onto him as he eats from a gigantic plate of pancakes  and an omelette that is more cheese than egg. It is awful and delicious all at once.

 

Yuuri-k: still in california?

Poodle-luvr: Yes! At Denny’s Diner!

 

Viktor responds the instant the notification pops up on his phone. The waiters may be slow and unsavory looking, but this place has the best Wifi.

 

Yuuri-k: dennys? Bacon milkshake diner dennys?

Poodle-luver: yes :)

Phichit-chu: do you only eat breakfast food?

Poodle-luvr: I woke up an hour ago, just trying to keep with tradition!

Phichit-chu: that is so sad

Yuuri-k: P, no

Phichit-chu: alexa, play despacito

Poodle-luvr: who is alexa?

Yuuri-k: we don’t have classes this week

Phichit-chu: Yuuri wants to know if you want to skate together

 

Viktor hearts swells. He’s so busy dealing with his emotions he doesn’t realize that the chat server is dead. They’re waiting for his response.

 

Poodle-luvr: Yes!! I’d love to!!

Phichit-chu: where are you staying?

Poodle-luvr: the seagull inn

Phichit-chu: im so sorry

Yuuri-k: we can pick you up! The bus system here sucks

Phichit-chu: be there in 20

 

Viktor finishes breakfast in record time. He leaves a 50% tip even though he hasn’t seen his waitress since the pancakes came. He floats back to the hotel, grabbing his skates and sliding into his practice gear.  Viktor watches his phone, the minutes clicking by. Right on time, the parking lot roars to life. Yuuri leans out of the window of a car that has seen better days, a matte black and patchy primer gray sedan that is probably older than Yuuri and Phichit combined. Viktor’s heart is beating too fast-- Yuuri is waving, a smile sweeter than the best desserts in all of Russia. His pancakes are savory compared to Yuuri’s face-- and he wants to devour it twice as much.

 

“Morning, Yuuri!” Viktor sings, and Yuuri answers with a kind of salute. He hops out of the front seat, kicking the back door and pulling it up and out as the metal fights against him.

 

“Hey, can you poke him and have him look  at me?!” Phichit yells from the driver seat. The cars entire frame hums with the bass-heavy dubstep playing over the sound system. Yuuri is still fighting the door when Viktor taps his shoulder tentatively. He immediately stops and turns his head, his honey brown eyes meeting Viktor’s.

 

It takes him a second to get his capacity for thought back. “Uh.. Phichit wants..” He points helplessly to the front seat, and Yuuri ducks to the passenger window, where he can see both of Phichit’s hands.

Phichit snickers, but their hands are moving too fast for Viktor to cross the lingual divide and guess what they are talking about. Whatever it is, it makes Yuuri blush and smack the side of the car.

 

Yuuri signs something Viktor can immediately read as “After you.”, gesturing into the back seat and resting two fingers of his right hand over the first two fingers of his other hand like legs  sitting on a bench.

 

Classes started on monday. Only a few days until he could  _ really _ understand Yuuri.

 

Yuuri, who climbs into the back with Viktor, shoving an overstuffed gym back to the front seat.  

Panic begins to boil in Viktor’s stomach--- with Phichit driving, there is no one to translate for him. The excitement coursing through his body turns to dread as Viktor watched Yuuri buckle in and sink into the scratched faux-leather seat next to him. He pulls out his cellphone-- great, they won’t talk anyway-- before a robotic voice speaks.

 

“Sorry for the late notice” a voice that definitely isn’t Yuuri’s comes from his phone. He recognizes it as a copy of Apple’s Siri-- thank god it isn’t a female voice. It’s jarring enough, watching Yuuri stare at him, his hands poised to type into the app.

 

“Aah, it’s okay.” Viktor stutters, trying to remember the american body language that conveys ‘okay’. This is more than okay. This is wonderful, even though the voice is robotic and kind of british and definitely not Yuuri. Yuuri’s voice is soft and whispery, his lips moving with his hands when he talks to Phichit. It’s the soft smile he always has when he looks at Viktor. It’s the sass Yuuri only brings out when Phichit pushes too far in chat.

 

Soon, it will be his hands, and Viktor will understand.

 

“It was Phichit’s idea.” The app says for Yuuri, and Phichit whines in protest-- looking up at the mirror to give Yuuri a tragic look.

Phichit doesn’t say anything until they reach the stop sign at the end of the road. “Yuuri’s skating Stammi Vicino for summerfest!” Phichit practically yells it, turning in the front seat and signing as he grins. 

 

Yuuri is immediately beet-red and shrinking in his seat, as if he can hide mere inches from Viktor.

 

“I didn't know you’d be here.” Yuuri types into the text-to-voice app, his face turned away. The car behind them honks, and Phichit punches the gas hard enough to make them all lurch.

 

The car falls into an awkward silence, the dubstep paused as Phichit’s iphone switches tracks.

 

Viktor reaches out, touching Yuuri’s hand. His eyes flicker up to him, his head still bowed and cheeks flushed.

Viktor hopes he remembers  last night’s study session right.  His hands move to smack his chest, watching Yuuri’s eyes widen and his absolutely  gorgeous and awkward smile. 

 

“Happy?” His lips whisper and its almost as if  he speaks it, his hands moving in the correct sign-- Viktor was close, but he missed the circling motion and the slight offset of hands. Viktor can only nod, returning Yuuri’s smile, trying to burn the image in his mind to revisit later. His smile, his lips moving…Viktor is already in love with them, with all of Yuuri. Dangerously so.

 

What would it look like to see his lips form his name? Call it out, to see his smile follow it?

 

Viktor desperately wants to know.

 

Yuuri is shaking when they enter the rink.  He is shaking enough that Viktor can see it, but it doesn’t take over his whole body. It isn’t shivering, it’s nerves. His hands shake visibly as he signs with Phichit over the iphone plugged into the sound system.

 

“Yuuri’s going first to get it over with.” Phichit voices, and his best friend gives him a dark look. But Yuuri turns, taking his skate guards off and dropping them on the ground just outside the board, pushing out to the center of the rink. Phichit raises his hand, counting down from three before pushing play.

 

It’s perfect. He’s perfect. Tears prickle Viktor’s eyes as he watches, his chin set in his hand.  Yuuri only downgrades one jump, and it’s the hardest one in the routine. His body makes music, a visual masterpiece.

 

Where had Yuuri been?  Hiding, somewhere beyond reach, robbing him of the chance to actually fight with someone for the gold.

Yuuri deserved gold.

 

Instead, he was skating a world-famous routine for  a bunch of college student nobodies.

 

Except he skated for  _ Viktor. _

 

Yuuri panted, out of breath as he skated back to the boards.  Words wouldn’t be enough-- Viktor grabbed Yuuri, squeezing and trying to breathe his feelings into him. He tensed immediately under his touch, relaxing a second later, but only so much.

 

He didn’t hear the ear-grating scrape of Phichit pulling the aux cord out of the system to snap a photo. His ears were buzzing with excitement as he let Yuuri go. He touched Yuuri’s heart, than his own.

 

“You… and me..” He said with each touch. “Should… skate it… together..” He tried to mime the movement of two skaters together. Yuuri squinted at him, focusing on his lips, taking a moment to process it, before his eyes sparkled with fanboyish glee.

 

“The show’s tomorrow. There’s no way.Routines take months” Phichit interjected.

 

“Oh… not tomorrow.” Viktor shook his head. “Just...while I’m here..”


	4. Viktor,realizing

While I’m here turned into I am here in under 48 hours.  
It started with Summerfest. Yuuri and Phichit spent the rest of the day splitting the rink, practicing Stammi Vicino and Shall We Skate while Viktor did compulsory figures and bits and pieces from his favorite choreographies.

“Hey Viktor!” Phichit yells from his third of the rink. His hands were cupped around his mouth as he pushes his voice across the ice. “You’re being distracting!”

Viktor flushes, going to apologize before he squints. Phichit was grinning. He turned to Yuuri’s corner of the week. He was staring back, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed. An adoring fan.

“He stopped skating to tell me the name and year of whatever skate you were doing!” Phichits grin was wide and mischievous. Yuuri wasn’t paying attention-- and even if he was, Phichit wasn’t sim-comming (what they called simultaneous communication-- signing while he talked). He was speaking (well, yelling) solely for Viktor.

“Sorry.. I’ll… stop.” Viktor tries to figure out a sign that conveyed that-- settling on making a T with his hands.

“Oh no, don’t let me stop you. He’s the happiest he’s been in...ever.” Phichit turns, sending a spray of ice and sass unlike Viktor had ever seen before.  
They bump shoulders on the benches when they call it quits 5 hours later.

“Oh my god, you know what Viktor has never tasted?” Phichit skids to a stop dramatically, his signs huge and all-encompassing. Phichit’s personality is even bigger in person.

“Normal non-breakfast food?” Yuuri signs, cracking Phichit up. Viktor forces a smile, before Yuuri blinks, and dives into his bag. He types it into the voice-to-text app, but Viktor still feels like he doesn’t quite fit.

“In-n-Out burger!” Phichit has to finger-spell it, but his fingers fly faster than the youtube videos Viktor watched the night before.

Yuuri is unbearably close in the back of the car, loose and tired by hours of practice. His shoulder touches Viktors, and he doesn’t shrink away.

They pull into a drive through. “What do you want?” Phichit turns in the front seat, and the cars breaks groan loud enough to make Viktor worry.

Viktor’s eyes flick over to Yuuri. He can understand him perfectly-- only because he knows how to cook from Youtube. Yuuri cups his hands like he’s forming a burger patty, then looks like he’s dipping fries into two tubs of ketchup.

“Great, me too.” Viktor starts- before Yuuri tucks his hands into his shoulder and flaps his arms like a bird.

“Uh--what?”  
Phichit starts to cackle, and Yuuri laughs too. And it’s music to his ears.  
Oh man, does Viktor have it bad. He wants to hear more of it-- even though its kind of nasally and doesn’t have the same cadence as Phichit, it’s real and for Viktor and it’s all Yuuri.

“Your face!” Yuuri types into the text-to-voice app, still laughing.

“Animal style, baby!” Phichit sings, jerking them up to the microphone to order.  
Viktor fumbles for his wallet, which Phichit kindly shoves back into Viktor’s chest.

“Oh please, this is funded by the International Bank of Phichit!”

“Phichit owes me for 2 am Taco Bell.” Yuuri’s phone speaks for him, and Phichit sighs dramatically.   
“Each one of those twenty tacos were worth it, Katsuki cash or no.”  
They pull over to the parking lot, only because Phichit can’t eat, drive and talk at the same time, and Viktor would rather live than try to test the theory out. The fries are covered in an orangey-pink sauce and fried onions. Viktor worries for a moment about any press that could smell his breath, before he sees Yuuri go chipmunk-cheeked with a mouthful of the messy fries.  
Friends. He has friends, people comfortable enough to eat terrible food in an awful car while the sun sets.  
Viktor had friends. Has a friend.. But Chris is still a competitor, and Viktor’s never seen him any potentially un-sexy situation as this. Phichit talks with his mouth full, dipping his fries into his vanilla milkshake and trying to debate an earlier wake-up time for the next morning. Summerfest. Yuuri’s pants are rolled up to his calves and his ankles are bare. He violates five fashion rules before you even get to his belt line, but Viktor is smitten.  
Yuuri uses all of their napkins, just to keep his hands clean enough to type on his voice to text app. He shares his pickles with Phichit, handing the soggy condiment over the center console.

 

They drop Viktor off at the Seagull in with a promise to be there at 8 am sharp.

It is a two man show-- Viktor helps carry in tri-folds covered in explanations of salchows and triple-toe-loops and the history of ice skating. Viktor has his own tri-fold dedicated to his skating history. It’s the neatest made out of all of them, and Phichit gives him a meaningful look after Viktor sets it on the designated show. Yuuri and Phichit hang up a banner made out of butcher paper, before they disappear into the locker room to change.

Yuuri may be a travesty off the ice, but on the ice… Blue is definitely his color. He wears a costume that makes him look like a crashing wave-- a sheer gradient of blues and greens with sheer texture and sparkle, the deepest color on his torso and then again his arms, to his jewel blue gloves.

Phichit wears red and gold, the front of the princely jacket a shimmering sequin field.

Viktor means to comment-- wow, nice costumes--who designed them?-- but he’s caught breathless. Yuuri is rubbing his eyes-- they look red and irritated, his glasses somewhere where they won’t slide off is face in the middle of a spin.

“You should wear your hair back. It will help.” Viktor says, pulling his fingers through Yuuri’s hair before he even realizes what his hands are doing. Yuuri’s eyes are wide, his face red up to the tips of his ears.  
But he doesn’t stiffen into a bundle of muscles. He only stares up, his eyes wide.

But Yuuri’s eyes aren’t what makes him stay.

It’s instagram, 10 hours after summer-fest is said and done, and Viktor is slouched on a common-room couch eating chinese food that is definitely not what he ate in Beijing out of take out containers. His knees are touching Yuuri’s, and no one is stopping and gaping at him or his untucked shirt or socks that don't actually match if you look at the toe line.  
A notification pops up with the selfie of a blonde girl posing with a blurry laptop screen

Sk8gurl: did anyone notice @v-nikiforov on the #skating tag today??? He’s at some random college in America! #summerfest #whatisgoingon 

Viktor violates his first rule of social media: Never read the comments.

Stammivolcano: he is so adorable in the video I can’t handle it

Beargurllys: what is he doing with his hands??

V-niki-fan: look at the summerfest tag!! Theres photos of him there  
Ghostmeme: with some nobody. So sad. Like he has time to waste on some college kid. 

Beach112: hey, be nice. I live in socal, that’s the school with all the deaf people. Dont make fun of handicaps.

Viktors blood runs cold.

If they knew… if people acted like their words would actually be seen by the people they’re talking about… would they take it back? Were they stupid, or just ignorant?

The past two days… the best he’s had in his life… wasted? Yuuri definitely wasn’t handicapped-- he could easily beat the same people Viktor competed with last season.

Viktor himself would be in the same category-- handicapped-- before he hit his thirties.

Before the end of the year, even. His body was a mystery that was betraying him.  
And he hadn’t thought of it since he met Yuuri in the dining hall.

He was happy...and all the world could do is question where and why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, comments are super motivating. I hope you liked the chapter-- thank you for all the comments so far!


	5. Yuuri, confessing

Phichit-chu: it feels like its been 10000 years since we’ve seen you, poodle  
Poodle-luvr: I know :(((  
Yuuri-k: its been 3 days, I’m sorryyyyy  
Poodle-luvr: it’s okay!!! I understand midterms are hard  
Phichit-chu: it wouldn't be so hard if yuuri would give up his 4.0 average and live a little  
Poodle-luvr: wow Yuuri!! So smart!!  
Yuuri-k: why don’t we hang out tonight?  
Poodle-luvr: I have class  
Phichit-chu: class? :3c  
Yuuri-k: aw, okay  
Phichit-chu: CLASS???   
Poodle-luvr: yes  
Poodle-luvr: I started intensive first year ASL at the start of the quarter  
Phichit-chu: !!!!!  
Yuuri-k: I’m pretty sure he said this before  
Phichit-chu: hey, how about you PRACTICE with US tomorrow, at the Beta Phi house??  
Phichit-chu: since now you are totally a student and its not weird at all

 

“I hate parties.” Yuuri signs the next day-- friday. Phichit is sitting on Yuuri’s bed, which has about half of Yuuri’s closet on it.

“I hate that you only own hoodies and old navy jeans.” Phichit replies, putting extra oomph into his expression when he signs hate.

Yuuri only gives a withering look.  
“What? You need to look hot.” Phichit grins, watching his best friend turn away, his ears a telling pink. 

“Fine. Wear what you are comfortable with, but, THESE pants.” Phichit says, patting the dark-wash jeans from his own closet. They’re a size too small on Yuuri, meaning which they show off his butt and fit right (In Phichit’s opinion at least)

Poodle-luvr: taking makka for a walk, then I’m on my way!  
Phichit-chu: YOU HAVE MAKKA??  
Poodle-luvr: yeah! She just got out of quarantine on monday c:

Phichit grins. Yuuri tugs on his jeans, wearing a grey t shirt with a blue and grey flannel unbuttoned over it. It is early november, and even if it is warmer than St. Petersburg summers, it’s fall in California. Phichit is already dressed for the party-- his usual black jeans, with a studded belt and his featured creator t shirt from this years Vidcon.

“Can we go see Makkachin instead of the party?” Yuuri asks futilely.

“You can see her after the party. “ Phichit rolls off the bed. “Here, you look thirsty.” He hands Yuuri his water bottle. Yuuri downs it, swallowing with a cough.

“You did that on purpose.” He signs one-handedly, his throat still burning from the vodka.

“I did. We need to pre-game.”

“Where did you get this, the mouth wash aisle?” Yuuri grimaces, but takes another drink regardless. His hands shake as he hands back the bottle to Phichit.

Poodle-luvr: I’m downstairs! Let me in   
Poodle-luvr: please

Phichit volunteers to let Viktor into the building, just to give Yuuri a few seconds to breath.

It’s been three months, and it's about damn time something happens.

“Hey there handsome.” Phichit smirks, pushing open the door to the lobby of their dorm building. Viktor has been here practically every night, even with a long-term lease with the seagull in, and now importing his beloved pet. Viktor is also wearing jeans-- ones that look like they cost an entire years worth of textbooks--an a maroon button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.  
“Um, hi Phichit.” Viktor smiles. It is painfully obvious that he is head over heels for Yuuri. It is almost depressing. Phichits attempts to convince Yuuri that maybe his idol has a crush on him have been fruitless.

Which is why Phichit is bringing out the big guns: alcohol. Because It Is November And Phichit Is Tired of All The Unresolved Sexual Tension.

“Yuuri!” Phichit is a naturally loud person, banging the door to their room open, yelling even though his hand on the light switch, flicking it on and off. “I’m back!”

Phichit’s water bottle is empty when he picks it up off his desk. He is caught between worry and awe. Yuuri and Viktor are looking at each other meaningfully. Time to bring out the malibu rum.

“Hi Yuuri. You look nice.” Viktor signs.

“You too. You look good in red.” Yuuri signs , before turning the color himself. “Thirsty?”

“Hey.” Phichit stops in the middle of mixing another drink. “Viktor, you’re not talking.”

Viktor’s eyes narrow. “I am?”   
But Phichit is smiling now, his eyes sparkling.

“No, I mean. You’re signing. You’re not talking and trying to sign, you’re just… signing.”

“Sorry.” With the community lessons, and 4 weeks of 4 hour daily classes, Viktor can hold a conversation. Specialized signs escape him, but finger-spelling helps… and he hadn’t even realized that the no-voicing rule from class had kept its grip on him.

“No way man. It’s great!”

“It’s amazing. You’ve come so far.” Yuuri adds, looking just happy, if not happier than Phichit.

“It’s fun.I can order a coffee on campus now.” He could do a lot more than order a coffee, but admitting that he revelled in being able to converse easily with Yuuri was too much. He would never tell them how happy signing made him-- how easy it was talk to Yuuri… how much better it was to have his chocolate eyes trained on him instead of a cell phone.

The party is at a frat house on the other side of campus. It takes ten minutes to walk there in the dark, leaves slipping under their feet on the brick red square at the center of campus. Viktor can only hear their footsteps and breathing in the crisp air.

“What.. is that?” Viktor can’t hide his concern when he points to a cooler sitting on the floor. It is filled with a murky looking colored liquid, a stack of red plastic cups resting against the igloo cooler.

“Jungle juice.” Yuuri finger spells it before signing the separate signs. “It’s...whatever alcohol there is, mixed together. It’s different all the time.” 

Phichit pushed a cup into both of their hands. The music is loud. Loud enough that Viktor can hear it thrumming in his chest. Yuuri sways to the beat-- missing the melody entirely, but it doesn’t matter. The later it becomes the looser Yuuri becomes, nervously downing several cups of the mysterious mix of liquor. Viktor’s nose is filled with the scent of Yuuri’s shampoo, and he doesn’t shrink away when Yuuri grinds into him. Yuuri dances with Phichit, moving like magic to a song Viktor only recognizes from clips playing on Target commercials. His hair is wild when he bangs his head, throwing his entire body into it.

The best part it when Yuuri floats back to him, unsteady on his feet, his flannel shirt hanging off of him. His chest presses against Viktor’s, and the Russian thanks every god alive that Yuuri probably doesn’t know where he is, and isn’t lucid enough to notice the hammering in his chest.

He gets so close that Viktor breaths in the same air, and his cute button nose touches Viktor’s. His eyelids are heavy, and his fingers twist into Viktor’s hands, before pulling. Come on.

Dancing with him is even more fun than watching. Their shared sports background comes into play-- Yuuri spins him, dances classically despite the top 40 pop blasting in the background. They step a salsa together, and Viktor can follow every lead Yuuri gives. His hand touches Viktor’s lower back as he dips him, and Viktor feels so incredibly warm. Yuuri follows his lead just as well, when Viktor stands up straight and steps forward. He leads Yuuri into his own dip, but instead of lowering him, Viktor kisses him. His lips part in surprise, and Viktor tries to pull away, only to pulled back by hungry reciprocation. Yuuri’s hand knots into Viktor’s hair, and he doesn’t let go.  
He doesn’t let go when it hits 2 am and Viktor being 25 hits him very hard  
.He doesn’t let go when Viktor carries him on his back across Red Square , or when they collapse onto Yuuri’s bed.

Viktor is torn between being good and listening to his body and being bad and giving into his body. Yuuri’s bed isn’t big enough for both of them to lie chastely together. But when viktor pulls away, Yuuri’s fingers grasp and pull at his shirt. His eyes are heavy lidded and molten as he stares up at viktor from under thick eyelashes.   
Viktor kisses him again, because he can’t stop himself. He kisses his soft lips , the tip of his nose and where his jaw meets his neck. The noises Yuuri makes drive him crazy - a firework lighting up his core and making his toes curl. Yuuri’s kisses slow, before he falls asleep tucked against Viktor , and he supposes he is trapped. 

Viktor wakes up first Saturday morning. Phichit is too loud , and breakfast smells too good. Phichit is a very good best friend , going out to buy McDonald’s breakfast sandwiches and hash browns to go with large glasses of water and ibuprofen.   
Yuuri takes 15 minutes to wake up. He’s quiet, shuffling into the room and staring at Viktor like he’s not sure if he’s part of a dream or not. 

After three months, Viktor decides to give in, and kisses Yuuri on the cheek.   
“Last night was fun.” Viktor signs, and Yuuri turns red, shrinking into himself and nursing his sausage egg McMuffin 

“Thank you for keeping your pants on you two. It’s about time you made out though .” Phichit signs after tapping Yuuri on the shoulder to get his attention.

Yuuri seems relieved, which is a little disappointing and reassuring at the same time. His arm is warm against viktor’s and the contact is grounding. 

At 2 pm, Viktor remembers makkachin and calls an Uber. Yuuri follows him to the outside door, curiously quiet. His hand touches Viktor’s arm, sliding down the fabric before he stares desperately into Viktor’s eyes. 

“I really like you.” He signs, his hands tense and close to his chest. He’s nearly ready to have a panic attack. 

Viktor smiles , glad he has the perfect answer. His hand folds naturally into the y shape, and he moves it between his heart and Yuuri's. 

“Me too.”


	6. Viktor, Thankful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> som tam is a Thai sweet , spicy and salty and but primarily savory salad made with pounded green papaya

“What’s wrong, you look ready to die.” Phichit signs the second Yuuri is in the door. It slams behind him, and Yuuri is bright red and his bands are damp with sweat.

“I told Viktor I like him. “ Yuuri signs, his hands still tight and close to his heart. He turns redder with the admission.

“Ohmygod FINALLY!” Phichit punches Yuuri in the shoulder, yelling as he signs even though he knows he’s the only hearing person on the floor outside of the RA’s. “What did he say? What did he do?” Phichit wriggles on his feet, bouncing from left to right. 

Yuuri straightens, taking on Viktor’s always-straight posture, before awkwardly signing ‘same’ before he collapses and pressed his face into his hands. 

“I can finally die in peace knowing you will get the ass you deserve.” Phichit signs with a grin.

“We’re seeing your family on thursday. Don’t make me tell them about your signing.”

“As if they ask, it was my first language.” Phichit smirked, before blowing a kiss and winking at his best friend.

“You’re corrupting me.” Yuuri signs, before he breaks out into laughter. Phichit loves it-- its the most unguarded thing about Yuuri. It took Phichit three months to get Yuuri to open up enough to laugh in the first place.

“Hey. You should invite Viktor to thanksgiving.”

Yuuri looks unsure.

“Fine. I will. He’s going to be alone, and campus dining will be closed. And you know how white this neighborhood is. Nothing’s gonna be open anyway.” Phichit fishes his phone out of his pocket, going to open Discord.

“You should ask your parents first.” Yuuri signs after tapping Phichit’s shoulder for his attention.

“Please. They cook for ten people knowing its just me and you. Viktor won’t break the som tam bank.”

Viktor reads the message and accepts the invitation within twenty seconds

~  
“Just one question..” Viktor says from the back seat. His knee is pressing against Yuuri’s, in a compromise to stop thinking about Yuuri in his cute-and-tragic argyle sweater vest. “Why do you live in the dorms if your parents live in town?”  
“Same reason I went to the same school my parents teach at. It’s free!” Phichit manages to sign with only one hand on the wheel. “Except for the food plan. But it wasn’t hard to convince them that I needed to be in the Deaf community more if I wanted to be a good interpreter. And they love Yuuri.”

Viktor smiled, looking back to his boyfriend--was it too early to call him that? His stupid sweater was blue, which was definitely his color. Viktor wished he had known-- he was dressed in a white button down and a grey blazer, but he had packed something blue in the Ced-Ex box that had arrived a few weeks prior. 

“They love everyone.” Yuuri signed exasperatedly. Phichit drove like he was playing GTA- and it got more and more terrifying the longer they were in the car. They finally pulled into the suburbs, into the driveway of a house that looked quintessentially American. It didn’t smell like it at all. Viktor had spent a few hours on google to catch up on any cultural traditions he didn’t know of. Where he expected to smell potatoes and turkey, the air hung heavy with peanut sauce and lemongrass and the sweet steam of rice. Phichit and Yuuri immediately kicked off their shoes at the door, and Yuuri hung back at Phichit flicked the living room lights on and off.

“Do they have name signs?” Viktor's nerves showed in his face as Yuuri watched him.

“Yeah, but you aren’t expected to know them. Besides, they have me call them mom and dad.” Yuuri shrugged, his thumb still against his forehead when they appeared.

“Yuuri! Look at you. Are you taller? A little fatter!” an older woman swept Yuuri into a hug, puffing up her cheeks with the comment before breaking into a familiar looking smile.

Viktor felt himself tense, watching Yuuri to look offended-- but he didn’t. He smiled, before touching Viktor’s bicep.

“This is my boyfriend.. Viktor.” Viktor watched Yuuri’s nimble hands fingerspell his name before going into his name sign (which he loved, and had brought into class. The professor had recommended the sign for silver.. But Viktor had remained adamant to keep the one Yuuri had made for him)

Phichit’s mother's eyebrows raised into her bangs. “Hearing? Or Deaf?” She looked at Yuuri, who faltered, his brown eyes flickering up to meet Viktor’s.

“Hard-of-Hearing.” Viktor signed, bouncing the h-shape side to side. In the community center class he had signed up for in July, he had been one of seven. At the university course, the majority of the students were hearing and enrolled in some sort of medical program. One other student recognized Viktor from Phichit’s instagram feed-- the only student going into the Interpreting course.

For a split second, it felt like he was being judged. But the woman's eyes softened. “You’re the Viktor in Marie’s class, right?” She signed, a fraction slower than she did for Yuuri.

Viktor nodded blankly, before lifting his hand, his cheeks flushing.

“The Deaf world is very close knit. People talk.” Phichit’s mother smiled. “My name is Pensri. But call me mom. We are all family here.” She ushered them into the dining room, where Phichit was busy signing with a girl half age.

“This is my little sister Phaibun, and that’s my dad Niran. And this.. Is dinner.” He made a grand gesture over the table loaded with dishes. The rice cooker sat at the end, letting out a cloud of steam.   
Phaibun wrapped herself around Yuuri in a tight hug around his stomach. Yuuri patted her head, waiting until she leaned back to sign a greeting.

“There’s turkey in the curry!” Niran signed like it was hilarious. Phichit obviously got his looks from his mother and his sense of humor from his dad.

“This is my boyfriend, Viktor.” Yuuri signed, touching Viktor's arm again. Viktor laughed, understanding Phaibun’s question instantly.   
“Are you getting married?”

“No! We just started dating.” Yuuri signed, turning red.

The table shook as Phichit’s mother banged her fist against it. “It’s legal now.” She signed once their eyes trailed to her position at the head of the table. Phichit grinned and lifted his hands in a ‘sorry, I can’t help’ gesture. 

They sit down together, filling their bowls and plates from the platters on the table. Viktor realizes how hard it was to talk about winning gold medals and traveling the world-- they waited patiently as he tried to fingerspell all the place names, only to look to Yuuri to clarify whatever Viktor had just said. And Yuuri knows- the year and what medal, and exactly how to communicate it in American sign language.

“So, are you coming here next week, or are you going on a cute date?” Phichit's mother signs, pointing to Yuuri and Viktor.

“What’s next week?” Viktor asks, looking toward Yuuri.

“My birthday.” Yuuri signs slowly, his cheeks turning pink.

“Oh!” Viktor smiled, grabbing Yuuri’s hands. “Let’s go on a date!” He sang, his eyes shining. He blinks, before immediately drawing back at Yuuri’s expression.   
He looked like he was trying to be happy. Trying to be understanding. Holding hands was what romantic couples did, right? But his expression is tense, and confused-- lost-- and Yuuri doesn’t say anything. Because he can’t. Because, unwittingly, Viktor had stolen Yuuri’s words from him. Viktor felt his face burn red. “Can we… go on a date?” He signed, knowing his hands were shaking far too much.

Yuuri smiled, too sweet and too good and so much more than Viktor felt he deserved at the moment, nodding, and adding ‘please’, his hand to his chest.

They leave the house with five tupperware containers each.  
“It’s november 29th, by the way.” Phichit says on their walk back to the car. He isn’t signing-- he can’t, loaded down with his food. Goodbyes took an hour-- once they started to move, another subject would come up and another conversation would trail on. It’s too dark outside anyway, and Yuuri isn’t looking, his shoulder bumping Viktors.

“What?” It feels strange to use his voice again. He still can’t manage to vocalize quite like Yuuri and Niran and Phaibun do-- soft whispers of not quite words. He either talks or he doesn’t, and talking and signing is a lot harder than Phichit makes it look.

“His birthday. Not a week, five days. November 29th.” Phichit unlocks the car before climbing over the seats to unlock the other doors manually.

Viktor stares at Yuuri’s head, watching as he types something in Japanese on his phone. Viktor imagines what Yuuri would look like with glitter on his cheekbones, his hair slicked back. On the same ice as Viktor, olympic-sized rinks stretching out for ages beyond his finger tips.

Yuuri looks up, even a casual glance making Viktor’s pulse quicken. He pushed himself onto his toes, placing a chaste kiss onto the corner of Viktor’s lip.

Viktor’s in love.


	7. Yuuri, Celebrating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating warning! There is sex in this chapter!

Viktor wakes up two hours before his alarm and uses every minute of the extra time. He changes his outfit four times, before taking it off and going for a run. He triple-checks the address of the restaurant, his receipt from the florist, and the texts with Yuuri from last night.

Yuuri-k: yeah, I can do that  
Poodle-luvr: okay!! I’ll see you between economics and your accounting class, right?  
Yuuri-k: at 1, yeah. Montgomery hall

Viktor buzzed with excitement. It was only 14 degrees out, much warmer than St. Petersburg, but Viktor didn’t imagine Yuuri wanting a romantic picnic. So he settled with picking up two caramel macchiatos from the cafe Yuuri had told him was his favorite and two bahn mi sandwiches from the vietnamese restaurant near campus. Both were close by but too far away for Yuuri to get to between classes.

Viktor swung by the florist last. Makkachin had been on four walks that day and it still wasn’t quite past noon.

His last stop was the common area of montgomery hall, where Viktor would meet Yuuri. He paces back in front of the bench where he set their food and yuuri’s first gift, unable to shake the nerves. Was this too much? Was this enough?  
Yuuri walks louder than anyone else in the building, feet slapping the marble stairs and coming to an abrupt stop.  
His cheeks flush that adorable color as Viktor lifts the gift-- a crown of dark blue roses braided into forget-me-nots and places it on top of Yuuri’s head. His hands shake as he lifts them 

“Wow… He signs, before smiling and wrapping his arms tightly around Viktor. Viktor kisses the corner of Yuuri’s mouth, the sweet smell of fresh flowers invading his nostrils

“Happy birthday.” Viktor signs, watching as Yuuri’s hands lift to his ears. He paused, automatically pointing to Yuuri’s ears with a questioning look. 

Yuuri is fidgeting with the arms of his glasses and the fit of the hearing aids hooked behind his ears, nearly hidden by the blue flowers forming a halo around his head.

Yuuri’s eyebrows raise before he realizes, freeing his hands to answer Viktor’s question. “They’re hearing aids. I wear them when I have a hearing professor or I’m going out without Phichit.”

Viktor’s heart sinks a little.  
He’s not Phichit. He can’t translate easy for Yuuri, and Yuuri has to juggle extra technology just to go out with him.

“Did… I never notice them before?” Viktor can't hide his nerves. Yuuri blinks, shaking his head. 

“I only wear them off campus or with my family. It doesn’t really help much. Phichit says it's mainly so I don’t get run over by a car.”

After the first diagnosis, Viktor had been sent to a consultation with an audiologist. He had spent hours doing more tests, eventually trying out several models of hearing aids.

He left without a single one.

Some had amplified sounds he already could hear. Others were just an unnatural approximation, noise and static instead of a melody.

Viktor hands Yuuri his coffee and motions toward the bench. Yuuri hesitates, his eyes darkening.

“What’s wrong?” Viktor signs, nearly sploshing coffee onto his shirt. Instead of signing anything, Yuuri just drags his thumb across Viktor’s bottom lip, his eyes searching Viktor’s own.  
The simple motion makes Viktor’s stomach flop and core twist with need. He leans down, taking Yuuri’s lips in his own, feeling his lips curve into a smile and a giggle float from him.

“Kissing makes a sound?” Yuuri signs, an absolute angel with flushed cheeks and thick lashes , even more beautiful than the blooms in his hair.

“I...guess..” Viktor steals a glance-- they’re alone in the common area, everyone in class or in another hall.

“I… like it…” Yuuri signs slowly, before nursing his coffee, staying close to Viktor.

Viktor, who notices Yuuri’s accent now. Not that it is anything like a Russian or American Southern accent… but its the way Yuuri signs. Before, it was hard to notice, focusing on the hands themselves and their signs, the translating taking most of his brain power.  
But now he drinks Yuuri in and appreciates every bit of him. How he signs with the Japanese self-placement-- from the nose instead of the heart. Yuuri’s ‘Yuuri’ is him pointing at the tip of his button nose, his ‘like’ from the middle of his face and not his chest. It’s jarring after a long weekend spent with his now-official boyfriend, walking into class and having to remember to slip into the classroom mindset-- and not the casual, loving and strange style of his love and friend. (Phichit’s “Hi bitches!” was not an appropriate greeting for class)

Viktor doesn’t realize he’s daydreaming until Yuuri touches his arm. “Again.” He signs, before smiling shyly, lifting his chin for a second kiss. He tastes of caramel and softness, and Viktor would rather have him than lunch….  
But Yuuri is on a schedule, so he slips a hand around Yuuri’s and pulls him onto the bench. The bahn-mis are too large and messy to eat one-handed, so they speak through their knees pressed together and shy glances.

“I’ll see you at five?” Viktor signs when it’s 1:45 and he knows Yuuri will have to run to his second class, and that Yuuri will sit with him on this bench for another twenty minutes, kissing him if Viktor doesn’t stop him.

He doesn’t want to, but he does.

Phichit uploads a collage onto instagram at 4:30-- Viktor, five years younger and in profile-- Yuuri, much older and more beautiful-- both wearing blue roses. Viktor is posed, ready and and smiling to the media, while Yuuri is caught off guard, his lips parted and angelic. Viktor is on the ice, and Yuuri is in his dorm-- his pet catcus sitting in the background. Viktor saves it onto his phone-- where he has a ‘Yuuri’ album.

Viktor is disappointed when Yuuri lets him into the building and the flower crown is missing. He is dressed up-- just like Viktor asked. He has pressed black slacks, a grey waistcoat and a tie a shade lighter than his glasses. It isn’t Yuuri’s color, but Viktor loves it anyway. Yuuri didn’t own anything this nice until that summer: Viktor remembers buying the waistcoat for Yuuri. It had been a struggle, and Yuuri had put the coat, slacks and shoes on his own credit card. Viktor had added the waist-coat and a tie (not the one Yuuri is wearing, regrettably) and paid for tailoring afterward. It was worth every cent-- the fabric hugs Yuuri’s body--- his small waist, his perfect ass. Viktor doesn’t catch himself staring right away: He doesn’t notice until Yuuri looks worried.

“Happy birthday.” Viktor signs, leaning down to kiss Yuuri on his lips. They’re soft, and the kiss melts away some of the tension.

“No one on our floor knows how to tie a tie.” Yuuri signs with a sheepish smile and flushed cheeks. Viktor can’t help himself-- his eyes leaving Yuuri’s face and hands. He’s still wearing his hearing aids.

“It looks good.”

“Phichit found a tutorial on youtube. Also, a three hour video of vacuuming. Youtube is crazy!” Yuuri is chattering, and when he finished a sign, Viktor can see the slight tremble in his hands.

“No kidding.” Viktor looks away to check his phone to see how close their Uber driver is.

“Where are we going?” Yuuri signs after pressing his fingers into Viktor’s arms. Yuuri doesn’t like long-term surprises. Coffee after class? Amazing. Keeping plans secret? Nerve wracking.

“Well, the outfits are for dinner. But I was thinking..” Viktors signs slow-- he has to think. For class assignments, he always has times to research and look up signs. With Yuuri, it has become impossible. They spend so much time together that basic introductions are useless.  
“The local theatre has a play. The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” Viktor ends up fingerspelling the whole name, even as he subconsciously lifts his shoulders as he signs it. “Quasimodo is a Deaf actor, and its the last night of their west coast tour.” Viktor feels his heart warm as Yuuri’s face lights up-- going from his usual quiet patience, to actual excitement.

Viktor makes the decision when they slide into the car. The driver asks “Viktor, right?” and Viktor opens his mouth, before snapping it shut. He nods, earning a strange look. Yuuri misses it, struggling with his seatbelt.   
“No English? “ The driver pulls away from the curb, and Yuuri can see his mouth moving in the rearview mirror.

“No, only sign.” Viktor signs. The driver seems to get it, turning up their radio and ignoring them for the rest of the drive.

“Are you doing homework?” Yuuri asks a few minutes into the silence. His eyebrows are raised-- his hair is combed back and Viktor desperately wants to run his fingers through it.

“No, why?”

“You’re.. Not talking.” 

Viktor worries his bottom lip. Yuuri wearing the hearing aids has been bothering him all day, but he doesn’t have a solid reason for not talking. He isn’t in class, and he still has a functional level of residual hearing.

“I am. To you.” Viktor signs. Yuuri looks unsure.

“You don’t have to act differently around me.” Yuuri’s signs are sharper, faster. Viktor can tell that Yuuri is mad.

“I’m not. I just… I want to be ready for our future. I want to be in your world fully.”

Yuuri doesn’t answer, his cheeks flushing, his head bowed. But he presses himself into Viktor’s side, his fingers tracing nervous patterns on Viktor’s knee.

Viktor orders them each a glass of wine before the show. The blinking of lights warning curtain time doesn’t faze him in the slightest. Yuuri twines his fingers between Viktor’s in the dark. Viktor shakes his hands side to side rather than clapping them at the encore. The lights turn on and light up the tears streaking down Yuuri’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Viktor’s heart stutters in panic. But Yuuri smiles. “It’s so sad.” He signs, before rubbing his cheeks with the back of his hands.

“Maybe it was a bad idea.” Viktor frowns, pulling his pocket square out of his jacket and dabbing at Yuuri’s cheeks. He closes his eyes,even lets Viktor take off his glasses.   
It’s the perfect moment to kiss him, but the guilt washes the chance away.

Viktor fumbles with his phone, copying the address of the restaurant into the uber app. Yuuri taps his arm, showing him a text from Phichit. He is demanding photos-- and continued to do so at 15 minute intervals throughout the play.

Viktor switches to his camera app before Yuuri’s arm stops him.

“Why didn’t you kiss me before?” He signs coyly, before closing his eyes and pushing up onto his toes. It seems almost too risque of a photo to send Phichit, but Viktor does it anyway. He sets it as his lock screen on the ride to the restaurant as Yuuri dozes on his shoulder.

The restaurant is expensive and popular enough that Viktor got in solely on his minor celebrity status. He forgets that he isn’t ‘out’ to the world when they arrive, and he points to his name on the guest list to the maitre d instead of voicing it. The maitre d panics, before nodding and escorting them to their table.

“ I hope you don’t have anything else up your sleeves. There’s no way I could beat it for your birthday.” Yuuri’s eyes widen at the exquisite taste of the first course, his eyes close in pleasure at the first taste of the house wine.

“You deserve it.” Viktor replies, reaching across the table to hold Yuuri’s hand.

By the third course (a fresh truffle oil sala), his mood sours. Their last-minute reservation earned them a table near the kitchen. Not quite as beautiful as the cafe seating, but no more than Viktor expected. Its close enough that Viktor can hear his name when it’s uttered.

“It freaks me out-- how can I get a good tip if I can’t talk to them?”  
“Don’t we have a braille menu?”  
“Just talk louder and slowly and give them your order pad.”

Viktor doesn’t know who is talking, but he can tell there are three voices. The bits and pieces he can’t hear are easy enough to divulge from context, and are enough to set adrenaline and anger rushing through Viktor’s veins.

Yuuri’s relaxed smile fades into worry. “Is your food bad?” Yuuri signs after setting down his fork. He knows there is no way-- this restaurant is famous for locally sourced ingredients, and Yuuri’s salad is half-eaten already.

“They are talking about giving us a braille menu.” Viktor signs, his hands clapping together harder and louder than he means to. Yuuri blinks, but he doesn’t look upset.

“That’s stupid… I guess we are pretty far away from CSD.” Yuuri looks more resigned than angry.

Their waiter chooses the perfect moment to show up.  
“Anything I can get for you?” The waiter is new, taking over their table, and their words are loud and over-enunciated.

“You can get your manager for me.” Viktor says darkly. The waiters eyes widen considerably, before the waitress stutters their response before absconding.

“Viktor, don’t make it a big deal.” Yuuri signs, his own eyes wide with worry.

“I won’t. I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

Yuuri’s shoulders droop. “This is part of it, though.”

Viktor only tilts his head to the side.

“My world. “ Viktor feels his brows furrow. “You can’t expect the whole world to understand.”

“They should be able to tell the difference between deaf and blind.”

Yuuri hides his face when the manager arrives and Viktor rises to his feet. He can’t hear the low growl of Viktor’s voice, but he is embarrassed nonetheless. 

They leave with a craft paper box of chocolate mille feuille cake and a bottle of the house wine and no bill. Viktor finds himself 400$ richer than he expected to be at the end of the night, and way less happier.

Yuuri stares his feet, playing with a corner of the take-out box in his hands.

“Let’s go somewhere else?” Viktor signs. They never made it to the main course, but the soup and salad were enough before his appetite drained completely away.

“No.” Yuuri signs, his gaze still floating away no longer anchored to Viktor.

“We can go to the beach?” Viktor signs helplessly.

“It’s pitch black.” Yuuri looks a little irritated this time. Without the street lamp above them, their conversation would be impossible. “I… just want to go home.”

“Okay.” Viktor sighs. Yuuri is quiet on the ride home, but when they arrive at the dorm’s keypad, he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t say anything when he pulls Viktor into the floor kitchenette and dumps the mille feuille onto a plate that belongs to the 70’s aesthetic, or when he stabs two forks into it. Viktor follows, not knowing what to do, when Yuuri walks down the hall to the triple-dorm room that belongs to him and Phichit (a perk of being the son of two professors, Viktor guessed) and immediately begins stripping off his clothes. Yuuri tosses them onto his bed-- a habit that is not new to Viktor but still makes him cringe-- before pulling on fuzzy sweatpants and a detroit skate club t shirt.  
They look horribly mismatched, and Viktor is still too stunned from seeing Yuuri in his boxer shorts to move.  
“Here.” Yuuri searches the closet, before pulling out the shirt Viktor left there after the third time he ended up spending the night. Yuuri throws the shirt and another pair of sweats at Viktor before pulling out Phichit’s hidden bottle of flavored vodka. The sweats fit, even if they are a little tight and short, and the shirt smells like Yuuri.

“I’m sorry--” Viktor signs it as soon as Yuuri’s eyes travel high enough to catch him saying it. 

“Don’t talk about it anymore.” Yuuri dismisses him immediately. “ I just want to enjoy our world.”

The anger is replaced by guilt at ruining his perfect night with Yuuri. They end up curling up on the common room couch, watching a made-for-TV movie and drinking the house wine out of coffee mugs. They take turns feeding each other bites of the cake, even with two forks between them. It is a thousand times comfier than sitting in the restaurant, and a familiar feeling. They had found themselves in the same situation before countless nights before. Except now, Yuuri’s warm and fuzzy from the alcohol, and he moves from sitting next to Viktor to crawling into his lap. The movie is forgotten before the second act when Viktor starts playing with Yuuri’s hair. He makes a noise that makes Viktor’s insides twist with pleasure. Yuuri presses his lips against Viktor’s, wine-drunk and warm, his hands cupping the sides of Viktor’s face. Yuuri smiles, straddling Viktor, warm and flushed and beautiful. The noise Yuuri makes when Viktor bites his bottom lip makes Viktor come undone. Yuuri is incredibly sensitive, everywhere-- his lips, his mouth, the soft curve of his neck-- wherever Viktor can put his tongue. Yuuri pressed himself against Viktor, his fingers finding the elastic waistband of his pants. Viktor finds himself panting Yuuri’s name, relishing every shiver and noise he gets from touching Yuuri’s skin.  
Viktor stiffens when Yuuri palms his hand between Viktor’s legs. Yuuri stumbles when Viktor pulls him off the couch and down the hall, back to their dorm room. Phichit is auspiciously missing, though Viktor only has half a mind when he pushes Yuuri down onto his bed. He pushes his hands up Yuuri’s shirt, kissing a wet trail from his flat stomach up to his neck. Yuuri is loud-- and that only serves to turn Viktor on even more, and make him want to draw more noise out of Yuuri. His legs hook around Viktor’s waist and drag him closer even as Viktor tries to push Yuuri’s waistband down. Viktor is fighting Yuuri, and only managed halfway, pulling Yuuri free from his boxers. Yuuri hides his face in his hands, but he doesn't bite back the cry that erupts from his throat when Viktor licks a wet stripe up his length. Viktor is well-practiced, but unlike the other times he has swallowed someone down, he feels close to finishing himself. Yuuri bucks his hips and pulls at Viktor’s hair, but the pain is overridden by pleasure. The faster he goes, the louder Yuuri gets. Viktor chokes, but it brings Yuuri over the edge, his stomach tightening and quivering and his fingers tangling in Viktor’s hair. Viktor swallows-- the first time in his life, pressing himself against Yuuri before his slick body parts can feel the cold. Yuuri looks dreamy, his pupils dilated and lips puffy from kissing. He arcs his body, pressing up against Viktor, asking for more. Yuuri’s hands slips into Viktor’s pants, the mere touch enough to bring him to orgasm. Viktor feels empty when Yuuri squirms out from underneath him, stumbling across the room before returning with a towel and the water bottle he usually carries with him to class. He drops them onto the bed, before pulling open the third desk in their room and pulling out a health-clinic brand condom and bottle of lube. Viktor feels fuzzy from wine and emotion, but the idea of watching Yuuri’s face when he cries out overcomes all reason. He pulls Yuuri free of the rest of his clothes, discarding his own. Despite knowing exactly what to get and where to find them, Yuuri is shy and inexperienced. Viktor’s fingers are too slippery, and he has to guide Yuuri into a comfortable position. He relishes it, Yuuri’s warm brown eyes following him hungrily, dark with desire and absolute trust.  
Viktor squeezes Yuuri’s thighs, wanting to leave a mark on his skin, to show everyone else what they did. But he loses himself in Yuuri, and the sound he makes when he finally pushes into him. Yuuri can’t keep quiet, and Viktor can’t stop him. Viktor finally gives in after a third time, their energy spent and water bottle empty. For once, Viktor isn’t the clingy one-- Yuuri sleeps with cheek pressed against Viktor’s chest.

Viktor wakes up first. Phichits bed is still undisturbed-- strange, considering that it's only friday morning. Viktor ignores it, rifling through Yuuri’s drawers for a fresh pair of boxers and new sweatpants. Yuuri will be more agreeable if he wakes up to coffee, after all.

“Good morning.” Phichit calls, sitting on the edge of the couch where last night began. “Sit. We need to talk.”


	8. Phichit, talking

Phichit steeples his fingers, pursing his lips. He looks grave-- and tired.  The couch behind him is turned into a makeshift bed and Phichit’s hair sticks up straight in the back.

 

“I’m not going to hurt him, I swear.” Viktor sinks into the armchair kitty-corner to the couch.

 

“Oh, I know.” Phichit has a glint in his eyes, and Viktor doesn’t know what to do.

 

“Viktor.”

 

“Phichit…”

 

“Just because Yuuri is Deaf… and you’re  _ going  _ deaf.. And this is a Deaf college… doesn’t mean  _ everyone _ is Deaf.” Phichit presses his eyes closed, looking pained.

 

Victor swallows. “This isn’t a shovel talk?”

 

“God, no. What is this, a straight romance movie? You guys went on it for an  _ hour.” _

 

Viktor felt his face grow hot. “Sorry.”

 

“I know you aren’t. I know  _ too well.”  _  Phichit rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I mean, I was going to wait and see if it became a problem, and then it was an  _ hour.  _  It never  _ ended.” _

Viktor stares at his lap. He didn’t know what to say.  He didn’t expect any less frankness from Phichit… but he also never expected going this far. Or that loud.

 

“We need a system. I don’t need a schedule, just… a little notice. Time to get my headphones, a place to sleep. At least a sock on the door.”

 

“Thiswonthappenagain.” Viktor managed. Everything feels too tight and hot.

 

“That would be tragic for both of you.”

 

“How can you talk so easily like this?” Viktor tugs at his shirt collar.

 

Phichit snorts. “You think this is easy? Dude, I’ve been dreading it all morning. I’m just glad its you and not some Brad from the hockey team.

 

Viktor’s eyes flash. “Brad from hockey?”

 

Phichit rolls his eyes. “Relax. Your boy is more virginal than ice on  opening day. He’s been pining after you before he hit puberty. Thomas was the only dude to get to first base. May he rest in peace.”

 

“First base? Did he die?”

 

“Tongue. And, no. We don’t talk about him anymore.”

 

Viktor cleared his throat in the uncomfortable silence that followed. A door slams-- and instead of some random floormate it is Yuuri. He drags his feet, before climbing into Viktor’s lap. His eyelids are heavy, and the way he melts into Viktor’s lap speaks volumes.

 

“Congrats on the sex.”  Phichit signs, and Viktor flushes.  Yuuri stiffens, turning bright red, but  he makes no effort to move away from Viktor.

 

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri signs, his movements small and close to his chest. “I guess.. We got carried away.”

 

Phichit laughs. “Oh, I can tell.” Yuuri stares questioningly at Phichit.  “You are LOUD!” Phichit’s signs are wide, bigger than himself. “I’m going to make a sign to hang on your door-- Do not enter, Yuuri’s having hot sex.”  Phichit cackles as he signs

 

“I’m going to crawl under a rock and DIE.” Yuuri manages before burying his face in  his hands.. The common room bereft of anything easily throw-able.

 

Viktor waits, before gently tapping on Yuuri’s arm.

“It’s okay. I… like it.” He feels his own cheeks warm, offering a shy smile to his boyfriend.  It takes a moment, before Yuuri smiles back. Phichit’s comment on developing diabetes is lost on both of them.

  
  


~~

The honeymoon period doesn’t last long. Finals come up quickly

. Yakov calls, angry that Viktor has  withdrawn from another competition. The anger only thinly veils the worry underneath, a sound that leaves Viktor feeling raw.  Every day together turns into “I can’t tonight”. Makkachin whines, stealing Yuuri’s sweater to snuggle with on her dog bed, leaving Viktor only with a forgotten scarf.

 

Five days before his birthday, Viktor has had enough.  He takes the bus to Mee-sum Pastry, picking up a few egg tarts and santa-shaped buns and bubble teas. He has decided he will surprise Yuuri, and bring him some brain-food for his study session.

 

His plan works out incredibly well- Finn, who lives on the same floor as Yuuri and Phichit, arrives at the dorm at the same time Viktor does. He lets him in, and Viktor earns a new best friend after offering him an egg tart.

 

Viktor fiddles with one of the boba tea straws, planning on what he will say. He  knows better to show up without food for Phichit-- he has a honeydew smoothie for him, taro for Yuuri, and strawberry for himself.  It’s not coffee, but if there’s anything he knows about Yuuri, is that he probably is on his third cup of the day already.

 

No one in the dorm locks their doors-- whether its trust or stupidity, Viktor doesn’t care. He doesn’t knock-- its a cultural  norm he’s lost in the last six months. Viktor smiles, his eyes instantly finding Yuuri-- before his jaw drops. He’s practically in Phichit’s lap, one hand cupping  Phichit’s chin and the other on his cheek.

 

They look like they’re making out.

 

Fight or flight kicks in. Staying, seeing this scene is too much: Viktor flies. He turns, shutting the  door behind him. In a second he’s back in the common room at the end of the hall, clutching the pastry bag with a death grip.

 

“Hey! Yo!” Phichit yells. There’s a clamor behind him, but  Viktor’s vision is too blurry with tears to see anything. Phichit is a blur when he slides in front of Viktor, blocking him from  exit. “Are you… crying?”

 

Viktor doesn’t answer. Phichit looks uneasy. There’s no point hiding it. Viktor blinks, trying to look away. “Sorry for interrupting you.”

 

Phichit’s perfectly straight brows crease. “What do you think we were doing?”

 

“I don’t want you to rub it in, Phichit.” Viktor’s voice comes out more scathing than he thought was possible.

 

“Whoah, don’t jump to any conclusions bro! I was-- um, I’m actually supposed to keep it a secret.”

 

Viktor’s jaw tightens into a snarl.

 

“Yuuri!” Phichit yells, bouncing on his feet. “Yuuri, dude, we need to just tell him.”  Phichit falls into signing. “He thinks you’re cheating on him.”

Viktor wish he  never had to see the sign.

 

Even though he’s angry, and hurt, it hurts him even more to hear Yuuri crying. Phichit’s eyes dart between Viktor and Yuuri, standing several feet away.

 

“Viktor.”

Yuuri’s voice is nasal, the v-sound not quite there-- but it doesn’t matter. The shock brings fresh tears to Viktor’s eyes.

Phichit punches Viktor’s shoulder, voicing and signing at the same time. “We were working on your birthday present. Yuuri figured out , that, um… you like his voice. So  I was trying to teach him V… you gotta be really tactile with that… so like.. That’s what was happening.”

Yuuri nods, his shoulders hunched as he ugly-cries.

 

Stupid. Viktor feels so, so stupid.

 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think-- I just reacted.” Viktor signs, before crossing the room and pulling Yuuri into a bear hug. “I’m sorry-- you did this all for me?” He signs when he finally lets go. Yuuri nods, his movements small and unsure. He still looks upset, but Viktor knows this. It takes a long time for Yuuri to unwind, and Viktor’s reaction must have caused a big wound.

Being closer to Yuuri almost makes him feel worse.  Yuuri is lifting his glasses, wiping his tears on the flannel shirt that is slightly to big for him. Yuuri is wearing Viktor’s shirt. He’s wearing a left-behind piece of Viktor, while crying because of a stupid mix up.

 

“I’m sorry--” Viktor signs again, before Yuuri puts his hands on his.

 

“Did someone cheat on you before?” Yuuri asks-- the hurt in his expression turns to worry, his soft brown eyes staring directly into Viktor’s blue ones.

 

“...A few.” The admission tastes bitter, even though there are no words passing Viktor’s lips.

 

Yuuri steps forward, this time hugging Viktor tightly.

 

“I’m sorry for ruining your surprise.” Viktor sighs. The only thing he doesn’t like about signing is how difficult it is to cuddle and sign at the same time.

 

“I think some bubble tea will make up for it.” Yuuri signs, smiling a little shakily.

 

They walk back together, hand in hand , into Yuuri’s room. Viktor lounges on Yuuri’s bed, while Yuuri sits on the floor, annotating  a textbook in his lap and chewing on the end of the pen. He takes a sip of his bubble tea whenever Viktor holds it up to his lips, and takes bites from santa-bread’s head when offered.

 

“Yuuri. Can you say it again?” Viktor gathers up the courage to ask an hour later, when the atmosphere has returned to its normal comfort.

 

Yuuri’s brows raise, but the confusion doesn’t last long-- Yuuri always seems to know what Viktor is asking. He blushes, his eyes downcast when he says it-- “Viktor”-- again.

 

“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has done for me.” Viktor confesses, and Yuuri turns a brighter red.

 

“He’s still working on it.” Phichit says from beneath his own pile of books.

 

“Oh?” Viktor grins,  Yuuri shrinking in embarrassment.

 

“You have to wait.” He signs, waving his book threateningly at Phichit when he grins too widely.

 


	9. Viktor, waiting

 

Waiting is harder than Viktor expected. Finals end a week before Viktor’s birthday, and he is eager to celebrate. Phichit is too-- pretty much everyone but Yuuri, whose ideal day involves a nap with Makkachin. But Yuuri is a good friend and an even better boyfriend-- and agrees to attend the end-of-term party on frat row.  He lets Phichit dress him again-- in tight black pants and a v-neck shirt that altogether highlight his ‘fantastic ass’ (Phichit’s words, not his). He hides it all underneath an army-green coat-- the one with pockets big enough for Viktor and Yuuri to hold hands in. Viktor dresses himself-- a v-neck and a sports jacket with jeans that cost more than the average student’s meal plan. Phichit is in his favorite  monochrome-grid printed jeans and a button down (another v-neck was a  _ tragedy.) _

   Unlike the first party, where jungle-juice and cheap bear had reigned supreme, this looked like an official event. The biggest frat house on the row had a bar-- or at least a more impressive show of liquor. Students bobbed their heads, red cups in hand. Yuuri stays close, and Viktor found himself resting a hand on his hip, or hooking a finger into a belt loop.

“Awww, you didn’t say you were dating anyone!” A young woman grabs Yuuri’s arm, looking like the revelation was tragic. Yuuri blushed, shrugging his shoulders. Viktor snaked his arm around Yuuri’s waist, and he leans back against him.  “I didn’t say I wasn’t.” He signed back. “We were kind of busy with class.”

 

“Yeah, but, really Yuuri! Wow!” The girl signs, obviously impressed, waving her fingers at Viktor. “He’s gorgeous. I’d be gay for someone like that.”

 

“Thanks?” Viktor signed, his mouth twisted. The girl’s eyebrows shoot up into her bangs. “He signs?” She looks at Yuuri, ignoring Viktor altogether.

 

“Yeah. He’s in 100 level, but he’s at the top of his class.” Yuuri signs. Viktor realizes just how fast Yuuri was-- they tended to be slower talking to each other, and Phichit voicing his signs slowed him down. It was harder to follow Yuuri in this environment, and it had nothing to do with the lighting.

 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Viktor. “ He signs, just to be petty, before sticking out his hand.

 

“Sarah. Same to you.” The girl signs, suddenly shy. “Yuuri and I have been in the same program since we declared majors.”

Yuuri sets his drink down, Viktor and liquor at the same time becoming a handful. 

“I’m surprised we haven’t met before,” Viktor signs, Yuuri turning to face Viktor.

“You were always in class. Sarah commutes too, so it wouldn’t work out.” Yuuri signed, an edge of anxiety setting his mouth into a line.

 

“You’re lucky, Viktor. Yuuri is highly sought after.”

 

“What?” Yuuri looks genuinely confused, flustered even.

 

“You’re one of the hottest people on campus.” Sarah signs. 

“I’m number two!”  Phichit hops in, his signs big, wide and drunk. Yuuri reaches for his drink, downing half of it in one gulp. He is trying to cope, and it is not going well.

 

“Order is debatable, you can’t really compare tens.” Sarah signs before breaking into laughter. Viktor can tell Yuuri is uncomfortable, but no one makes a move.

 

“Brains and beauty.” Sarah signs, and Yuuri flushed. He reaches out for Viktor, just to touch him and ground himself.

 

“Humble?” Viktor fingerspells. He doesn’t know the sign, and he’s not even sure of the english word. But they nod, before a bass-heavy song comes on the speaker, and Sarah pulls Phichit over to the living room to dance.

 

“I hate parties.” Yuuri signs darkly, finishing off his drink. He drops his cup onto a coffee table, tugging Viktor back toward the makeshift bar. They are only one drink in, and this is at least a three-drink-until-tolerable party. Viktor is content just to watch Yuuri, wait until he is comfortable enough to maybe dance with him.

 

But they never get to.

 

Yuuri is two sips into a rum and coke when he stumbles, falling into Viktor’s chest. It is worrying mainly because they weren’t going anywhere--  merely standing, watching the party mill around them.

 

“Yuuri?” The name slips out from his lips inadvertently. But it doesn’t matter-- Viktor has to hold Yuuri up, as he slides down his body. Both his hands are preoccupied as Yuuri leaves his entire weight in them, his head lolling back, eyelids fluttering.

 

Oh god oh god oh _ god. _

 

Viktor pulls Yuuri up  under his arms, dragging him onto the hideous couch pushed into the corner. He is heavy, loose like a limp doll. Viktor taps Yuuri’s arm, and then his cheek, but he doesn’t respond to either.

 

Viktor’s hands shake as he pulls out his phone. Calling would be useless-- it’s too loud, he doesn’t know what he would say. He types out a message to Phichit-  _ come outside now  _  and scoops Yuuri up into his arm.

 

He has no idea what the medical number is in america. 100? 110? Thank god Phichit is attached to his phone and a good friend. He meets Viktor in the front yard  less than 60 seconds after the text is sent.

 

“Whats up?” It’s too dark to see Phichits face, but Viktor can hear the worry in his voice.

 

“Yuuri just fell over. He’s unconscious-- I don’t know how to get to the hospital.”

 

“What? We’ve only been here ten minutes. Holy crap.” Phichit paces, but gets to business right away. Within five minutes, the front of the frat house is lit up with red and white lights. Medics take Yuuri onto a stretcher, pushing open his eyes and shining lights into them. The party goes on, even with Viktor’s life on pause.

 

The EMTs won’t let Viktor and Phichit ride in the ambulance-- even if there was any room for them.An uber shows up an agonizing five minutes after Yuuri leaves, alone and asleep.


	10. Yuuri, sleeping

The drive over is agonizing. Phichit’s foot is tapping incessantly. Viktor considers jumping out of the car when they pull up at a red light left turn in front of the hospital room.  
Phichit runs ahead. “My friend--- Yuuri Katsuki-- is he in a room yet?” He says, slamming his palms down on the counter.

“Sorry, sir, but we don’t allow visitors in the ER--” The nurse says.

“I’m his emergency contact! The only one in the united states!” Phichits voice is too loud. The nurse closes her mouth. She doesn’t look like she will give in.

“I don’t supposed you have an interpreter.” Phichit narrows his eyes.

“We have spanish speaking staff…” The nurses voice is smaller.

“Spanish? Hah! He’s Deaf, and you’re setting up yourself for a lawsuit! You’re the closest hospital to one of the largest Deaf universities in the country! You should have an interpreter on call at all times!”

“Sir, it’s midnight on a weekend--”

“Lucky for you, I’m an intern and fluent in ASL. Let me see my friend before you give him something that could kill him!” Phichit’s smile is dangerous, and the nurse scoots back.   
A door opens, and a man in scrubs motions for them to come back. Yuuri doesn’t have a room-- he has a bed surrounded by curtains. Phichit’s bravado dissolves in a split second.

“Ohmygod, Yuuri.” Phichit’s hand goes to Yuuri’s shoulder. He’s hooked up to tubes and a heart monitor. The baby hairs around his face are slicked down with sweat and his skin shines with it.

The reality of the past twenty minutes hits Viktor all at once. His chest wracks with a sob-- one that wouldn’t come when Yuuri slumped into his arms, or when they were left empty in the lights of an ambulance.

Yuuri’s hand flutter, his mouth twisting into a grimace. Viktor pressed forward, pressing his knuckles into mouth to stave off any more cries.

“Go on. He can’t hear you.” Phichit waves limpty at Viktor.  
“But--” Viktor’s voice betrays him. He isn’t calm. Not at all.

Yuuri’s eyes open, but they are unfocused, and he doesn’t seem to notice them there.

This is somehow worse than him being asleep.

“Yuuri.” Viktor drops to his feet, taking Yuuri’s hand and pressing his lips to it. Yuuri’s face breaks into a dreamy smile. His head lolls toward Viktor, and he squints, even though his glasses are still perched on his nose.

“Yuuri,Yuuri, my love, how are you feeling?” Viktor remembers to sign in the middle of it, and the movement makes Yuuri squint even more, his eyes crossing dizzily. Yuuri doesn’t answer, instead stroking Viktor’s cheek with the back of his hand.

They’re alone too long before a doctor--or nurse-- or someone who looks like they know what they are doing comes in.

“Are you his family?” The doctor pauses.

“Yes.” Viktor says as Phichit opens his mouth.

“He’s deaf. So, if you need to ask him anything, I’ll need to translate for him.” Phichit sounds professional-- a different side of him, as if he is stepping into a new pair of shoes.

“Well… “ The doctor clears his throat. “It was as expected, from the report from the EMTs… we found traces of GHB in the blood sample we took. “

“GHB?” Viktor interrupted. Yuuri was running a finger across his lips, but his touch was unsteady.

“Yeah, can you clarify?” Phichit kept his professional tone.

“GHB is a common date-rape drug. It’s odorless and colorless, which means its easily slipped into drinks. It’s a depressant, which means it causes blackouts and lowered heart rate, which we see in… Mr.. Katsuki.”

“Is he okay? Is he going to suffer any long term effects?” Viktor bites out, taking Yuuri’s hand in his.

“The drugs effects typically last about 6 hours. Thankfully, he had you two, and he avoided whatever trouble the drugger wanted to put him in. He didn’t get a dose high enough to induce coma… so it looks good. Other than amnesia, he should be back to normal by morning.”

“He hates hospitals. Like, really hates them.” Phichit’s professionality was gone, his shoulders wilting.

“Once he finished the IV drip and gets his heartrate up, he should be good to go home. He’d just need someone keeping an eye on his breathing.”  
A knowing nurse leaves a bucket at Yuuri’s feet, which he retches into three minutes after the doctor leaves.

“Um.. I love Yuuri, but… I’m a sympathy puker.” Phichit says as he pales.

“I’ll take him home. Or-- you can stay at my place. I don’t really want him to wake up in a strange bed.” Viktor stutters.

“Oh please. We both know it’s not the first time he wakes up in it, and it won’t be the last.”

Viktor’s eyes flash-- he doesn't feel like joking. Or sleeping--- not when every time he closes his eyes he feels Yuuri fall limply against him, sees him lying unconscious in his arms

“Sorry.” Phichit bites his lips. “Take him home, please? I’m pretty sure I’m not throwing up now because I’m too busy being pissed off that they don’t have an interpreter for him.”

Viktor softens-- there's a reason why Phichit is Yuuri’s best friend.

“Can you make sure his family knows? That he’s okay?” 

“Uh, maybe. They’re kinda hands-off. Or actually, Yuuri tries to make it that way.”

“Why?” Viktor’s brow furrows.

“They are super protective. With hospital stuff. I mean, Yuuri wasn’t born Deaf. He had meningitis when he was a baby, so his parents are super weird about hospitals. That’s why he doesn’t have a cochlear.”

“I thought it was just because it isn’t like hearing normally…” Viktor catches Yuuri’s hand in his, pressing his lips to his knuckles. Yuuri is still dozing, his hands limp and warm in Viktor’s.

“Yeah… and well, it’s a lot of work. Some of my friends have to go to an audiologist every two weeks for years. Yuuri grew up in some podunk country town too. He only ever went to a clinic till he moved here. Ciao Ciao brought us to the hospital for our sports physicals, and Yuuri freaked out.” Phichit mumbles.

“Shouldn’t we leave?”

“No,” Phichit scoffs. “I’m not endangering my bestie’s life because his parents act wierd.”

Soon, police arrive. Viktor gives his statement as he holds Yuuri’s hands. Phichit tries to interpret for Yuuri, but his eyes don’t track Phichit’s signs and he gets nauseous again. Viktor is left with a card and a phone number for Yuuri to call when he recovers.

By chance, the same Uber driver picks Viktor up from the hospital. He looks nervously at Yuuri, who still sways on his feet and clutches a hospital issued bucket.

“He was drugged. Drive us to my apartment and you’ll get a tip.” Viktor pulls two twenty dollar bills from his wallet-- even though the ride is only an eight dollar fare.

Yuuri falls back asleep during the drive, and Viktor spends the entire time watching his chest rise and fall by the light of passing street lights.

~

The next morning Viktor awakes with a start, Makkachin’s paw pressing into his chest. The events of the night (and morning) before flood back to him, and his stomach sinks. But Yuuri’s arm is slung across Viktor’s stomach, and he can feel a wet patch on his shirt from Yuuri’s sleepy drool.

“Yuuri… “Viktor breathes, taking his shoulder and shaking him awake. It seems like too much, but he has learned that Yuuri won’t wake up to gentle kisses and caresses. Yuuri fights wakefulness, and the battle takes twenty minutes at the least.

“Mmmmmm.” Yuuri groans, pushing Viktor away, and kicking cold feet against Viktor’s shins.  
Viktor laughs, the stress washing away at the appearance of Typical Yuuri.

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” Viktor cooes, Yuuri squinting at Viktor’s hands before flopping away from him. Yuuri is acting normally, so Viktor feels safe enough to take Makkachin out for a walk. He brews a pot of coffee, pouring a mug to take to bed for Yuuri.

Even with the stress from the night still thrumming through his veins, Viktor still relishes the sight of Yuuri in his bed. It is terribly domestic, even more so with Yuuri dressed in Viktor’s sleep shirt and pajama bottoms (that he bought specifically to share with his boyfriend.) Makkachin somehow knows Viktor’s need to see Yuuri protected, and spends the entire time Viktor is in the kitchen curled around Yuuri on the bed.  
If they get married, Viktor dreams of buying two king sized beds to push together and share.

Yuuri sits up as Viktor comes in with the coffee, blinking sleepily and signing slowly. “Smells good.” He says before taking the mug, closing his eyes as the steam curls up and hits his face.

Viktor sinks onto the bed next to Yuuri, staring down at his coffee. Yuuri likes his sweet and milky, and Viktor likes his strong and black. It isn’t appetizing at all.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says. Viktor looks up, startled. He loves it when Yuuri uses his voice. Finding out was hard, but Yuuri’s said it so many times in private that he’s lost the negative association.

“I love you.”


	11. Viktor, waking up

Viktor’s heart hammers in his chest. “Again.” He signs, unable to keep back a smile.

“I love you… Viktor.” Yuuri says, before hiding his flushed face.  
Viktor flops down onto the bed next to him, pressing his hand to his own heart, before touching the space on Yuuri’s chest.

“I love you. So much.” He nearly tears up.

Instead, he gets Yuuri to say it again, on video and over a cup of coffee. He struggles to refrain from sharing it on instagram. He won’t, because he knows how self-conscious Yuuri is. Because it was a present for Viktor, and him alone.

Viktor would do anything for Yuuri.

Even skip class. Which is what he does when Yuuri asks to meet him in the student union building. It’s well lit, and Viktor recognizes some faces from Phichit Parties… including the last one they went to. His blood runs cold-- the girl who talked about how popular Yuuri was is there, but her eyes aren’t on him.   
Yuuri is curled up on a couch, his eyes on his phone and mouth set in a hard time. Phichit is sitting on the floor next to him, despite the empty spot beside Yuuri. Phichit looks unphased, but that stirs up more worry in Viktors gut. Because he knows. Phichit has a perfect poker face.

“Yuuri!” Viktor cooes, even though Yuuri doesn’t look up until Viktor drapes himself over his boyfriend. His frown melts away into a smile, and Yuuri pats the empty spot next to him. He even offers Viktor some of his coffee. Viktor thinks about indirect kisses, the thought calming his insides before any lucid thought is scattered by Yuuri climbing onto his lap.

“I missed you.” Yuuri signs coyly, smoothing down the collar of Viktor’s shirt. He’s wearing Viktor’s team Russia jacket, even though by Russian standards it’s summer-warm outside.  
Sarah, the girl who hinted that Yuuri was well sought after waves shyly.

“You should check your phone.” Phichit’s tone removes any presumption that it’s a suggestion. He doesn’t even look at Viktor-- for a good reason, most likely. No one spares a glance toward Phichit, especially Yuuri, who is touching Viktor’s ear in a very dangerous way.

There’s a private message from Phichit on discord.

Phichit-chu: I got another invite to that frat house.  
Phichit-chu: except they specifically requested “that hot russian guy”  
Phichit-chu: you should know that Yuuri thinks and does a lot of self-destructive things

 

“What? I don’t get it, Peach.” Viktor says out loud, nearly dropping his phone when Yuuri touches him just right.

Phichit just furiously taps at his phone.

Phichit-chu: not that he’s told me, but I bet Yuuri thinks he drank YOUR drink  
Phichit-chu: and the entire college is out to get you

Viktor chokes and stutters. He doesn’t want to stop, but he also knows that Yuuri doesn’t want to be that person either.

“Yuuri, my love, my starlight, love of my life.”

“That’s a lot of signs.” Yuuri replies, his expression providing all the flat tone he needs. He waits half a second before going back to kissing Viktor and treasuring how he blushes up to his ears and down to his chest.

“You don’t need to do this to show people I’m yours.” Viktor signs sheepishly. Yuuri blinks, confused, then his eyes flash with anger.

“Do what? Love you?” He signs, but his hands smack together with force, loud and fierce.

“I already know you do--” Yuuri wraps his hands around Viktor’s, squeezing them into fists and shutting him off. His mouth twists, trying words he’s not sure he can wrap his tongue around, before he frustratedly throws Viktor’s hands toward his chest.

“Am I embarrassing you?” Yuuri snaps.

“Never--”

“You looked happy.” Yuuri signs flippantly, unable to muster the expression.

“I just don’t want people to think you’re--slutty?” Viktor doesn’t know the sign well, but his approximation is worse. Phichit audibly smacks himself in the face. 

Yuuri is off Viktor’s lap in a second, fluttering a way, buzzing and still as a hummingbird before flying away.

“What are you doing?” Phichit yells, and Viktor isn’t sure if its at Viktor or Yuuri. “You both are a hot MESS, Ciao Ciao help us!” Phichit groans, pulling his hand down his face. “Go! Go after him before he runs into traffic or eats himself into a coma!” Phichit bites at Viktor, pulling him to his feet.

Yuuri is a fast runner. He evades Viktor at every turn. When he finally gives up three hours later, he finds his jacket folded on the door mat in front of his apartment.

“I was so stupid.” Viktor croaks, pressing the cloth to his face. He feels warm, exhausted and raw from the inside out. The jacket smells like Yuuri, even if it his own and the Russian skating federation would murder Viktor if they found out.

Viktor expects a restless sleep, but he loses himself as soon as his head hits the pillow.

The ceiling he sees when he wakes up is not his own. It’s blindingly white, and the sheets feel rough against his palm.

They’re the same color as Viktor remembers as a background to Yuuri, sleeping peacefully and unwillingly.

This time, Yuuri is sleeping with his cheek pressed against the sheets of Viktor’s bed, the rest of his body folded into a chair.

Viktor squints-- there’s a whiteboard on the wall, and the date written on it in dry erase marker is a good 12 digits past he remembers it being. His doctor’s name is below it. He’s very obviously in a hospital, but why or how he got there is beyond him.

Viktor jumps when he finally notices the new person in the room, some anonymous nurse taking his vitals.

He didn’t hear a sound.

He watches the doctor’s lips-- she is endlessly chatty, but there’s nothing there. It’s as if the wire was cut-- there’s no signal misinterpreted, no black screen. Just a complete lack of signal.

“I… I can’t hear a word you’re saying.” Viktor can feel himself stutter, the feedback loop broken. He can tell he sounds strange by the nurses reaction. “C...can I get an interpreter?”


	12. Viktor, learning

Phichit nearly drops the paper cups of tea he bought from the depressing hospital cafeteria. When he left, Yuuri was still fighting sleep. Now, he walk into his friends hospital room to see him up and talking with his forced-press smile on.

 

“Sir, I’m sorry, can you say that again? Your accent…” The nurse looks stressed, and Phichit can't even see her face.

 

“Holy shit! Viktor! “ Phichit yells, but it doesn’t matter. They’re in the ICU, and if Yuuri is asleep, he won’t be woken up short of an earthquake.

 

“Sign, please.” Viktor signs, his expression darkening at the narrowing of Phichit’s eyes. “Everything’s gone.” He points to his ears, watching Phichit’s shoulders drop.

 

“Uh, wow. You’re handling this well.” Phichit says, setting down the two paper cups of tea on the bedside table. Yuuri’s phone, in its adorable poodle case, is sitting on it, plugged in and charging.

 

“I knew I was going to lose my hearing eventually. That’s how I found you. And Yuuri. You both have helped me a lot.”

 

“I meant almost  _ dying,  _  but okay. What do you mean? Lose your hearing?”

 

“It was supposed to be another year or two. But… something happened? I don’t hear anything. No ringing. No low tone. “ Viktor’s signing slowed to a stop. “Why do you look so surprised?”

 

“Sorry. I just.. I kinda forgot? You’ve always been Poodle-luvr, then you were holy-shit-poodle-is-viktor, then you were viktor-my-friend-and-yuuri’s-boyfriend.”

 

“Not ‘Viktor, who found your discord because he found out he was going Deaf?”

 

“Haha, no. But it makes you look a little less desperate.”

 

“Desperate?”

 

Phichit shrugs. “I thought it was just because you like Yuuri.”

 

An unpleasant feeling rose in Viktor’s stomach. Phichit wasn’t  _ wrong…. _

 

“Why am I here? I almost died?” He asks instead.

 

“Oh...yeah… well… You and Yuuri had a fight… and Yuuri called me the next morning. We broke into your apartment, which wasn’t very hard, by the way, lock your doors-- and you were running a really bad fever. We brought you here, and they said you got viral meningitis.  You’ve been kind of in and out of it for almost two weeks.”

 

“Is Yuuri okay?” 

 

Phichit rolls his eyes. “A mess, but he’s healthy. He’s been staying in here with you most of the time. He’ll probably have to retake a class or two…”

 

Viktor’s gaze dropsto Yuuri, still huddled against the side of his bed, cheek smushed against the mattress. “He hasn’t been sleeping, has he...”

 

“Well… no… but he does that. When he’s upset.”

The words break Viktor’s heart bit by bit.

 

“He said he’s sorry. A lot. Sign, orally…” Phichit offers, feeling a little awkward.

 

“I’m the one who should be sorry.”

 

“He’s gonna be upset when he wakes up. You can say sorry then, but I’m pretty sure he forgave you.”Phichit sank into the only empty chair in the room. The nurse returns with a man in a dark suit. No one is paying attention to Phichit when he scoffs, muttering something about ‘ only for rich white men’ under his breath.

 

Viktor’s eyes nearly glaze over as the interpreter fills Viktor in, way more clinically than the story Phichit had shared. After the confusion is taken care of, Viktor feels the exhaustion creep in. He feels weak, tired… almost an entire week of his life lost.  His brain can’t even compute the dead signal from one of his senses. He only thinks of the weeks of his life he lost, and how torturous it must have been for Yuuri.

Viktor can’t bear to wake him up-- his skin is pale and there are dark circles under his eyes. Phichit promises that Yuuri ate, but the hard set to his mouth when he says it makes Viktor believe it wasn’t much. The picked-at sandwich sitting on the bedside table confirms his suspicions.

 

But, despite his best efforts, Yuuri wakes up. He stirs when Viktor tries to remove his glasses, ease some discomfort from the wire and plastic pressing into his skin. Viktor is hungry for information-- he stares at Yuuri, noticing how he blinks, eyes widening before filling with tears. He notices the small movements before Yuuri scrambles onto his chest. Viktor can feel Yuuri sobbing, his chest jerking, wracked with the absolute emotion of it.

Yuuri’s mouth is moving, twisted into ugly shapes and his cheeks rolling with fat tears. Viktor watches, before it clicks into place.

He’s talking. Words are spilling from his lips, between gasps for air. Viktor can guess, but only because Phichit warned him. Yuuri’s mouth is working too fast, moving too much for Viktor to read any meaning.

“Yuuri, stop.” Viktor signs, overwhelmed.

 

Yuuri does. And Viktor instantly recognizes his mistake.

 

Yuuri breaks. It’s worse than him crying, because he isn’t. His expression fractures into something blank, broken and not- Yuuri.

 

“I’m sorry.” Viktor signs, hitting himself in the chest at  _ I’m  _  hard enough that it hurts. “I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

 

Yuuri blinks, his eyes moving minisculely as the follow his movements.

 

“I wish I could hear your voice.” Viktor continues on.

 

Phichit wishes he had left. The sound Yuuri makes is painful to hear. Not that Yuuri’s expression changes into realization.

 

“I knew I was going to lose my hearing, but I didn’t expect a sickness to accelerate it so much. I hope it isn’t a dealbreaker..”

 

Yuuri looks like he is going to hit Viktor, his mouth twisting into incredulous anger. Instead, he smacks the whorl on the back of his head.

 

Seeing Yuuri’s smile is better than hearing his laugh a hundred times over. Yuuri melts into Viktor, burying his face into Viktor’s chest. Yuuri lets Viktor run his fingers through his hair, until he twists and turns, maneuvering so Viktor can see his hands and face.

 

“I’m moving in with you.” There’s no question in it.

 

“You are? What about Phichit?”

 

“We were going to talk about it. But there’s no way I’m leaving you alone again.”

 

“I’m fine. Typical college illness.”

 

“You’re only going to college because of me.” Yuuri starts to wilt again, his fingers curling into his palms.

 

“This isn’t your fault Yuuri.” When Yuuri doesn’t meet Viktor’s eyes exactly, Viktor takes his boyfriend’s face in his hands. Fresh tears fill his eyes and spill over his cheeks.

 

Yuuri isn’t going to accept the truth easily.

 


	13. Viktor, home

 

When Viktor goes home two days later, Yuuri has already moved in. There’s an empty mug in the sink, sweaters hanging next to Viktor’s in the hall closet and a stack of boxes at the foot of his bed. It’s not complete though-- Yuuri is obviously living out of his suitcase, and the apartment looks barely lived in-- because Yuuri’s been at the hospital with him.There’s a larger box sitting on the kitchen counter filled to the brim with objects Viktor has never seen before.

 

“Yuuri, whats this?” Viktor signs, tapping his boyfriend on the shoulder. Yuuri’s already busy putting groceries away, leaving out the takeout food they ordered on the way home from the hospital.  

 

“Stuff from Phichit’s family.” Yuuri signs distractedly.

 

“A keyboard?” Viktor signs, frowning.  Yuuri drops what he is doing, reaching over Viktor to pull it out. 

 

“It’s a TTY.”

 

“A what?” Viktor turns the keyboard over in his hands.

 

“Like texting, but for landlines.” Yuuri’s signs are short and sharp-- he’s visibly irritated. “If you want to order a pizza, you can call the relay and use it.”

 

“Why not ask Phichit?” Viktor blinks.

 

“Because he knows we can do it ourselves.” Yuuri moves to pull the next package out of the box. 

 

“That’s a door signaler.”

 

“I have a door.” Viktor laughs nervously at the deadly look Yuuri gives him.

 

“But you can’t hear.” Yuuri raps his knuckles on the counter to illustrate the point before dropping the box onto the counter.

 

“Fire alarm with a light.” Yuuri signs. Viktor loves watching it still-- his hands flicker from fist to spread. Now he doesn’t have a choice.

 

“Bed shaker alarm.” Yuuri signs, pulling an alarm with a large white puck-like shape at the end of one cord.

“You needed all of this to live?” Viktor signs, in awe. It’s all brand new and expensive looking.

 

“No.” Yuuri signs, looking miffed at the sympathy. “But… You will. We will. Since we’re both Deaf.” His expression softens at the sweeping of his hand between them.

 

“You really are moving in.” Viktor drops his hands to the counter. He isn’t sure if its a relief or a stress. He wasn’t asked about it, but he doesn’t mind.  

 

“Yuuri….” Viktor pauses. “It’s not your fault I’m deaf.”

 

“I know. It was happening before you came here, right?” Yuuri doesn’t meet Viktor’s eyes, methodically stacking the various alarms back into the larger box. “I forgot, but when the interpreter came in…”

 

“You forgot I was going deaf?”

 

Yuuri shrinks, his shoulders folding forward, his head bowed. “Viktor is Viktor to me.”

 

“Then tell me… Are you happy, or disappointed?” Yuuri’s eyes widen at the question, his cheeks turning pink.

 

“Happy…?” His eyebrows lift into the question, and he doesn’t look sure of himself. “But sad… because I grew up like this… and you feel like you lost something.”

 

“Happy?” Viktor repeats, inquiring. Yuuri worries his bottom lip, taking a moment before forming his reply.

 

“Happy…. Because… I don’t know any hearing and Deaf couples.”

 

“Yuuri…” Viktor feels his stomach sinking. “That doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I follow one on Youtube--”

 

“I was worried you would get bored of me and all the work it takes to talk to me.” Yuuri’s signs are almost too quick to catch, his face pinched with emotion. “So much I forgot all about what you were going through…”

 

“I’d never get tired of you. I love you.” Viktor signs before slipping his hands over Yuuri’s shoulders and back, kissing him on the lips, then  his forehead. “You gave me a life and light when I thought it would be all over. I think I’m adjusting pretty well, thanks to you.”

 

Viktor offers a crooked smile to Yuuri’s doubtful look.  “I mean… I really only miss hearing your voice.”

 

Yuuri only looks quizzical. “The noises you make when I surprise you, or kiss you…When we’re in bed…” Viktor can feel his own cheeks start to color. Yuuri pushes himself onto his toes, pressing his mouth hungrily against Viktor’s. Yuuri’s hands twist around Viktor’s, before he finds the right grip and presses his hand to the delicate curve of his neck. Viktor can feel the vibration of a hum, or a happy purr-- he can feel the same jerk of pleasure in the pit of his stomach.

 

“I wouldn’t stop you from getting a cochlear implant.” Yuuri signs when he pulls back, tapping the spot on his skull behind his ear  with two of his fingers. 

 

Viktor smiles wryly. “It’s all nerve damage. As fun as it would be to have major surgery, I don’t think it would work. You’re stuck with me as I am.”

 

“I can’t trade you in for someone who uses a clothes hamper?” Yuuri teases, leaning back into Viktor’s chest.

 

“Makka likes laundry nesting.”


	14. Gloss

 

Viktor chews on pencils when he thinks too hard. The one in his hand now is worn and dented with teeth marks.

 

“It’s not weird if I introduce someone whose Deaf?” Viktor asks Yuuri, his mouth still twisted into a frown.

 

“Phichit doesn’t allow anyone in the ASL course to introduce him. Something about low hanging fruit.”

 

“What about you then?”

Yuuri shrugs. “I’ve never been to an ASL class here. I learned enough in Japan, and the class doesn’t teach the local words anyway.” Yuuri leans over Viktor’s kitchen table and taps Viktor’s notebook, reminding him to get back to work.

 

“This… is Yuuri... Name sign, my boyfriend” Viktor reads aloud, although the only sensory input he is getting is the movement of his lips and the voice in his throat. He doesn’t know exactly what level Yuuri perceives sound at, beyond the fact that he wears hearing aids to classes taught by hearing professors. Regardless, he watched Viktor intently before picking up a pen from Viktor’s pencil case and writing on the next line:

 

MY- BOYFRIEND Y-U-U-R-I.

 

Viktor tilts his head, signing it before it all clicks. 

Writing in English grammar won’t work for another languages' grammar. 

Viktor would feel embarrassed, except Yuuri is blushing adorably, smiling at the word ‘boyfriend’ that Viktor is utterly distracted. He clears his throat. “He is… beautiful.”

 

Yuuri slaps his hand, hiding his face. Viktor grins, before erasing it lightly.

“He is…. Twenty three… And studies here, at the California school for the deaf.”

 

Yuuri snatches the pencil from Viktor before writing neatly below him again.

 

PRO3 AGE 23.  PRO3 STUDY  INDEX-[at] C-S-D  PRO3

 

“This is hard,” Viktor sighs, earning a wry smile from his boyfriend. “Can we just say your name and kiss? People will get the context.”

 

Yuuri wrinkles his nose, laughing, before leaning over to kiss Viktor lightly on his nose.

 

Viktor ends up wrapping his arm around  Yuuri, pulling him onto his lap. “I’m happy you moved in.” Viktor murmurs, signing it when Yuuri leans back, grumbling. He slides off Viktors lap, before handing him his phone and taking his own and settling back onto Viktors lap, resting his chin on his shoulder and his arms around Viktor’s shoulders, meeting at the nape of his neck.

 

“This seems antisocial.” Viktor texts back to the emoji Yuuri sends in their private discord chat. He can feel Yuuri’s disgruntled noise rumble in his chest, but Viktor hugs him tightly before he can lean back or squirm away.

‘Its the only way we can talk and cuddle comfortably.’ Yuuri taps out in his next message. ‘Its communication.’

 

‘True. I’m sorry’ Viktor types back, closing his eyes and giving him a moment to drink in the scent of Yuuri’s shampoo.

 

Yuuri-k: what are you doing for spring break?

Poodle-luvr: lots of sex??

 

It’s hard to concentrate with Yuuri so close, but Viktor gathers himself after a playful slap.

 

Yuuri-k: what about… a vacation

Poodle-luvr: I love vacations!

poodle-luvr:We could go to fashion week!

 

Yuuri stiffens slightly. Something is wrong.

 

Yuuri-k: what about japan?


	15. Flight

 

It takes two seconds for Viktor to start looking for flights, and five minutes to book them. Getting to Hasetsu is more expensive than Tokyo, but lodging will be free.  With Yuuri’s family. It’s a huge first step, somehow bigger than Yuuri demanding to move in and sharing the same bed with Viktor. This isn’t just waking up next to Yuuri  wrapped up in a blanket burrito, or brewing a pot of coffee for two. 

 

Viktor knows from all of his favorite movies: marriage is coming.

 

Sure, it’s barely been a year.  In fact, with the flight, they will spend their first anniversary together. They technically didn’t start dating until later, but they had plenty of dates before either of them had put a name on it.

 

Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Yuuri, my adorable, handsy boyfriend.

 

Yuuri, my sweet fiance.

  
  


Either sounds good.

 

Viktor spent the time between booking the tickets and using them by fretting. He bought enough new outfits to make a new wardrobe. He buys neck pillows, a lavender-scented eye mask for Yuuri. A new set of suitcases. He starts buying Yuuri new clothing, soft button-down shirts in blues and purples. He buys more when he realizes he can coordinate Yuuri’s outfits with his own and Yuuri won’t even notice.

 

Their flight doesn’t leave until 3, but Viktor is up before 7. He cooks breakfast-- keeping it simple, a slice of toast with jam and scrambled eggs. He brews a cup of tea for Yuuri, knowing that he will want to sleep on the plane. He balances it on the closest thing he has to a tray-- a cookie sheet, crawling back onto the bed with breakfast. Yuuri groans-- he’s still wrapped up like a burrito, Makkachin taking Viktor’s place between Yuuri’s arms.

 

“Yuuri,” Viktor coos, even though only Makkachin opens her eyes. He traces the side of Yuuri’s face, his nose wrinkling, his hands emerging from the blankets to bat his hands away. Viktor pressed a kiss to his palm, before grabbing a piece of toast and holding it under Yuuri’s nose. It wakes him instantly, sleepy maple-brown eyes drifting open. 

 

“I love you,” He signs, sinking his teeth into the toast,strawberry jam smearing across his lips. Viktor kisses it off, kissing  Yuuri until he crawls into his lap. Viktor relishes in feeding Yuuri, taking bites between Yuuri’s. He watches Yuuri get dressed in his comfiest jeans and college sweatshirt, a flu mask hanging on his neck until they get to the airport. Viktor’s carryon has three paperbacks, three batterypacks, Yuuri’s face mask, a blanket , a change of clothes for each of them and a bag of Yuuri’s favorite rice crackers. Yuuri packs a kraft paper notebook, a set of pens in a pencil case, and a pack of gum. 

 

Viktor hasn’t been in an airport since he flew to meet Yuuri. The silence where he expected constant buzz and movement is disorienting. There’s no roll of wheels against linoleum, the constant security reminders, or the call of people to their gate. It’s dead air.

 

Yuuri is too busy shuffling through their paper tickets to notice the wetness springing to Viktor’s ears. He blinks it back, sniffling. Yuuri’s wearing his hearing aids, but there’s too much background noise for them to be much help.  He has to remove them when they go through security anyway, and he slips them back into his pockets instead of putting them back on.His gaze is sharp and focused, doing his best to lip-read.

 

“Coffee?” Yuuri signs when they reach their gate with an hour to spare. It’s strange to see him in this world-- off campus, further away from the campus of CSD, the world is less friendly.  Viktor can tell that the barista raises her voice when she doesn’t get an answer right away. Yuuri simply hands her his notebook, a pen clipped to the page with a polite smile. The reaction is mixed-- most people look confused, and all of them stop looking at Yuuri once he hands the notebook over.  When they stop by a quick-service menu, the waitress hands them a braille menu. Viktor can almost see the irritation on Yuuri’s face. He almost wants to see Yuuri get mad, indulge Yuuri on the anger that boils under the surface. But Yuuri doesn’t. When the waiter comes by, he signs his order, before tapping the print-text menu on the table pointedly.  He still writes a tip on the receipt, even though they leave the restaurant with their snack.

 

Viktor finds out that Yuuri likes to walk before going on a plane-- walking endlessly. Viktor would rather spend time in the duty-free stores, maybe purchase his boyfriend a new cologne. But Yuuri paces, his notebook tucked against his chest.  He only stops when they find the airline customer service. Yuuri hightails it to the desk, waiting in the line before handing over his tickets. Viktor hangs back, but watches as Yuuri taps his ears, pushing his notebook across the counter. He gestures back to Viktor, and the agent nods, before writing on their paper tickets. Viktor gets dragged to the gate, where the first conversation is repeated. 

 

“What are we doing?” Viktor signs, exasperated when the flight attendants file by, the gate agent talking to them with her back to them.

 

“Making sure they know we’re Deaf.” Yuuri signs, leaning into Viktor’s chest. Viktor steps back, regretting it a little at Yuuri’s stricken look.

“Why do they need to know?”

 

“If we’re going to be late, or theres turbulence… they need to tell us. I told them, so they know who to look for… and how to communicate. I always have to do this.” Yuuri signs, before putting his whole weight against Viktor, snuggling into his side.  

“What would I do without you?” Viktor signed. Yuuri smiled, knowing what he would be saying even without looking. 

The flight was long, but not as bad as the flight to Viktor’s home country. The air was immediately thicker once they deplaned. Getting on another flight was the last thing Viktor wanted to do after twelve hours in the air, but it was better to spend one hour in the air than five hours on a train.

 

Yuuri went right for a vending machine in Narita, bouncing on his feet as he fed coins into it.  Two bottles tumbled to the bottom, and Yuuri handed him one-- a white drink, the only english a curlicue Calpis.

 

“Cal...pico?” Viktor fingerspelled. They had gone to the local asian grocer a few times before, and the yogurt drink was Viktor’s favorite treat. Yuuri grinned, nodding, knocking his plastic bottle against his in a toast. 

 

The second plane was much smaller-- Viktor had to duck to enter,  nearly as tall as the plane. His knees were uncomfortably cramped, and his thighs pressed against Yuuri’s.  The only other passengers were businessmen, and a mother with her young child, keeping him busy with origami paper. They served drinks  in tiny paper cups despite only being in the air for a few minutes between take off and landing.

 

“Yuuri, you said no trains,” Viktor tried  his best to whine through sign. Customs had been a struggle-- Yuuri had to leave for the Japanese National line, and Viktor hadn’t packed a notebook.  The customs officer had been reluctant to take his phone, and Viktor had ended up having to speak careful English. Yuuri had finished earlier, and Viktor had found him sitting on a bench looking worried.

 

“We have to take the train to Hakata, then the express to Hasetsu.” Yuuri was too tired to be anything but no-nonsense.  “Maybe an hour, hour and a half?”

 

“You didn’t say you lived in the middle of nowhere,” Viktor signed, grumbling. Luckily, Japan had something called Black Cat, and Yuuri had paid to send their suitcases ahead.

 

“You didn’t have to come,” Yuuri snapped, his signs short and jerky. He walked a little faster. Viktor immediately relented, easily catching up to Yuuri and pressing an apology kiss to his cheek. 

 

Yuuri threaded his fingers between Viktor’s, loosely holding his hand through both rides. He even held on when he dozed off during the first train. Luckily, both trains had a scrolling LED sign that displayed the roman letter names of each station, and Yuuri had mentioned that they were riding to the end of the line on both trains. 

 

It was dark by the time they pulled into Hasetsu station. Yuuri was still sleepy, rubbing at his eyes as they stepped onto the escalator. 

 

Viktor  jolted-- he must have hallucinated a shriek of joy, the moment they came into view of a older woman holding a bright pink banner. She waved frantically, dancing up an sweeping Yuuri into a grand hug.  Her hands gracefully moved, but it didn’t make sense-- what signs he recognized didn't fit in the context, and the fingerspelling was shorter and different-- the motions similar, but signs different-- a sideways  _ W _ , a point to the nose instead of the heart. It took Viktor a full minute before he realized-- this was Yuuri’s native language. Japanese sign. He didn’t understand much-- he knew when Yuuri was referencing him, before he realized that Yuuri was translating. He followed making an ‘m’ with two hands and a thumbs up with signing the much more familiar ‘boyfriend’, moving from framing on his chest to signing against his face. Yuuri blushed sweetly.

 

“This is  Minako,” Yuuri signed, the woman smiling impishly while Yuuri pointed at him. “She was my ballet teacher and my first  ice skating coach.” Minako blinked, smiling politely. “Um, she can speak and write English. Everyone at home uses JSL though.”

 

“That makes sense,” Viktor shrugged. “Nice to meet you,” He did his best to voice is, but the longer he spent neglecting his voice, the more unsure he felt about it. Minako didn’t react-- he knew the cadence was off, but Minako only smiled and bowed in return.

 

“Next, my house,” Yuuri signed. “Are you ready?”


	16. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 4 months but I haven't forgotten about this fic!!
> 
> Thank you for all the positive comments. I read and treasure each one. I'm bad at replying, but consider this a big fat THANK YOU

 

It was hard talking to Yuuri and taking  in Japan at the same time. He had visited Japan before, but only during competition and never long enough to sight-see. The landscape of Hasetsu is completely different from Tokyo too--  all green mountains and no buildings above four stories. The roads are so narrow that Viktor is scared they won’t make it when another car zooms down the opposite way. But Minako expertly maneuvers into a corner, and they pull into a long gravel driveway.

 

It’s exotic and homey all at once. The front of the building is hung with paper lanterns and painted fabric signs with painted hiragana and katakana.  Viktor could write his name and recognize Yuuri’s, but that was it. Learning Japanese after hours of visual language was too much, and Yuuri struggled with teaching it more than he did with sign. Beyond the gate laid a traditional garden, including a scraggly Japanese maple tree. It was easy to see a rainbow of painted rocks hidden in the dirt among the plants-- messy enough that they had to be done by Yuuri  or his sister when he was younger.

 

When they finally make it through the front door, the air smells of steam and cooking food. Minako yells out something, but it's meaningless to Viktor, and Yuuri is busy pulling his shoes off.

 

A plump middle-aged woman appears out of nowhere, her footsteps carrying through the wooden floor. She has Yuuri’s smile and soft cheeks, and she waits until Yuuri looks up before she grins.

 

Already, it’s hard to communicate. Viktor can tell right away that their language, while visual, is different. Yuuri’s  name sign at home is the same handshape, but cupped in a bowl of a hand held by his mother's heart. It’s sweet, though-- she greets Viktor with the same warmth, copying the name sign Yuuri introduces to her while trying to greet him in English. 

 

“Mom,” Yuuri taps his mother on the arm. “He’s Deaf.” He signs, as if turning a key in his ear, looking embarrassed. Hiroko blinks, before smiling.  

 

“Come. Eat.” At least that is easily shared  between languages. Maybe it’s just the long hours of traveling affecting Viktor’s sour mood. Food, a bath and a shower will make life much easier.  The brush of Yuuri’s fingers against Viktor’s help too. By the end of the meal, Yuuri is just as drowsy as Viktor is, full of katsudon and slices of fresh apple cut to look like bunnies. He’s drowsy enough that he folds himself into  Viktor, most of his inhibitions gone with his energy. Minako is rambunctious, making herself at home and talking endlessly-- to Yuuri’s mother, sister and other patrons of the onsen. It’s a little isolating, but Yuuri doesn’t seem to mind. The notebook he had out at the coffee shop follows him around. A few people greet Yuuri, and they pass the notebook back and forth. It’s different… Viktor is used to almost effortless conversation-- but then again, he’s spent the last year with Yuuri or Phichit or  in the Deaf Studies department. Here, there are two degrees of language seperation… and while it kind of works, it’s isolating.

 

While Hiroko uses some home-sign, it quickly dwindles. While she’s busy in the kitchen, Yuuri stops them to orally tell her that they are going to the onsen.

 

“Yuuri..” Viktor taps on his shoulder when they’re in the changing room, and Yuuri stops with his shirt hanging off of his arms. “I thought… your family knew more sign.”

 

Yuuri blinks, balling his shirt up and stuffing it into an empty locker.  Viktor feels stupid, before Yuuri shrugs. “They work hard keeping the inn running. They are the reason I can go to school in California. Why I went to the school for the Deaf in Fukuoka.”

 

“But… isn’t it lonely?”

 

Yuuri plays with the edge of the locker door, deep in thought.  “They’re my family. It’s different.” He turns away, ending the topic at hand until they’re in the showers, scrubbing the day of travel off their skin. The baths are heavenly, and Viktor feels soft and warm even after drying off and getting dressed in a forest green jinbei. Yuuri humors him, dressing in the same outfit in the next size down.  Matching outfits makes him some sort of giddy, and Viktor ends up sending a series of selfies to Phichit over Discord.

 

They go to bed early, the futon folded in a neat pile on the floor going unused. Viktor crawls into bed with Yuuri, wondering what made the multitude of dark squares on the walls, bits of wallpaper ripped off from missing tape.  But Yuuri is warm, and a welcome weight curled up on his chest. Yuuri falls asleep instantly-- Viktor’s learned that he can fall asleep anywhere and in any position-- including standing up-- as long as its reasonably dark.

 

Viktor stays up a while longer, finding patterns in the plaster ceiling’s shadows and reassuring himself that indeed, the ring in his suitcase is still there.

 

It is 3 am when he jolts awake. He frowns-- he must have imagined the shrill- sound, before it returns in his consciousness. He sits up, looking around the room, before locating the sound-- Yuuri’s phone is ringing, the flash light blinking a bright white light. Viktor picks it up, his arms just long enough to reach the nightstand-- but the alert on the screen is full of  indecipherable kanji.

 

Yuuri stirs, if only because the flashlight is flashing in his face. He blinks sleepily-- but its too late. The entire bed-- entire  _ room  _  shakes in a slow roll. 

Terror immediately spikes in  Viktor’s core. Yuuri doesn’t even lift his head, even as books spill from his bookcase.  He sits up when the shaking doesn’t stop, and it only increases. Viktor doesn’t know if its his nerves or the earth moving making his stomach flip-flop. Something shatters in another corner of the house, and Viktor flinches.

 

“Yuuri--” Viktor gasps, forgetting himself in his anxiety and speaking to his boyfriend. He remembers quickly, grabbing Yuuri’s thigh and pointing to his ears.

He can hear.

 

Not everything. 

 

But something.

 

Viktor laughs, grinning ear to ear even as Yuuri blinks sleepily.  The earthquake over, Yuuri turns over back to sleep. Adrenaline is still running through  Viktor’s veins like fires, and he watches the screen for another ten minutes.

He finally calms down, before the shrill alarm creeps back into his consciousness.

 

The phone is flashing again-- and this time, Viktor scans the message for any numbers. 

His eyes find a roman numeral six, and  he has enough time to shake Yuuri awake before  Yuuri’s bedroom door is pushed open. Mari looks relieved when she flicks the light on and finds them both awake.  Her arms are loaded down with coats and backpacks, her fingers twisted into the heels of both of their shoes.

 

“We have to go.” Mari signs, her movements short and jolted as the shaking starts again. The slow rumble lasts  even longer, and plaster sprinkles the bed sheets as the ceiling above them cracks. 

 

Yuuri yawns, and Mari  sits on the floor patiently. Viktor feels like running out of the room, terror bubbling in his stomach. The shaking finally stops, but its easily stronger and longer than the earlier quake.

 

Whatever Mari signs next, Viktor doesn’t understand. But Yuuri gets up an unzips Viktor’s suitcase.

 

Viktor is too panicked for words-- he says them, but only Mari understands. Viktor instead goes to pull Yuuri’s hand away, imaging the box wrapped in plastic wrap sitting on top of his underwear.

 

Yuuri pulls away from Viktor, glaring.  “We have to go. There’s a tsunami.” Yuuri snaps in ASL. “We need a few days clothes, it’ll be easier to just bring one suitcase.”

 

“I’ll do it.” Viktor signs, sighing, edging Yuuri away to his own suitcase. He slips the package under the belt at his waist, before tucking it into the backpack Mari drops by his side. It’s heavy-- loaded with two liter bottles of water and other brightly labeled packages Viktor can’t read.

 

“Get dressed. It’s cold, and shorts aren’t safe.” Mari says, and Yuuri translates. Viktor changes into the one pair of expensive jeans he packed, and feels a little bit soothed by watching Yuuri pull on one of Viktor’s sweaters.

Toshiya and Hiroko are waiting by the front door-- Viktor can make out what he assumes are sirens, or something broadcasted over the large speakers that hang off electrical poles all around the neighborhood. All the lower notes are lost-- but some make it past what Viktor thought were his dead nerves. Yuuri stops, climbing over broken glass to grab his notebook from the dining room table.

 

The rest of the neighborhood is awake, despite the early hour. The sky is dark, and the only lighting is from emergency vehicles. Neatly uniformed policemen with white  gloves walk the neighborhood, over split sidewalks and around broken remains of windows.

They walk for twenty minutes, climbing up a steep hill, covered in uneven stone steps.

Viktor follows Yuuri’s family to the dirt  playfield of the local elementary school-- Yuuri details this information on the lit screen of his phone-- in the notes app, all bars in the upper corner of his phone gone.

 

“I went to  school here.” Yuuri adds to the notes app. It is eerily calm-- they join an orderly line to a table set outside of the gym.  No one is crying or sobbing. Even children are dozing off in their mothers arms.

 

“Yuuri.” Viktor taps his hand, before taking his phone from him. “Aren’t you scared?” He types out.

 

Yuuri hesitates, taking the phone back. But instead of typing a response, he buries his face into Viktor’s chest, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing tightly.

 

It is going to be a long night.


	17. Tsunami Keihou

Viktor follows Toshiya and Hiroko into the elementary school gym, hugging Yuuri close to his side. Half of Yuuri’s neighbor is already there, sitting on a patchwork of blankets and mats. Mothers bounce their babies, rocking them back to sleep, but most, like Yuuri, are wide awake.  
At least in the bright lights of the gym Viktor can see Yuuri-- and his hands and finally communicate with him easily.

“What’s going on?” Viktor signs after Hiroko shoos them onto the mat she pulls from her own pack.

“I don’t know.” Yuuri bites back. Mari has disappeared, and Viktor finds her working with other women her age to distribute blankets in a corner of the large room. Viktor tucks one around Yuuri’s shoulders, sitting and waiting as minutes tick by.

It takes him way too long to notice that Yuuri is watching the faces of the other families. Viktor watches policemen speak into a microphone, but the words on his lips are meaningless. He only gets the high pitched feedback that makes the entire building wince and cover their ears.

Yuuri lasts two hours before he dozes off, his head resting against Viktor’s arm. Viktor feels bad for it, but he wakes him up for the tea Mari and other women begin to pass out around six am. It isn’t Mari that delivers the paper cup, but someone that Yuuri instantly brightens upon seeing them.

Yuuri waves shyly, before using his voice. Viktor can’t lip read yet again, and wishes desperately he could hear him speak in Japanese. The woman uses limited sign, none of which that crosses over to what Viktor knows, but Yuuri finally relaxes.  
He pulls his notebook from the suitcase and tugs the pen from the coil binding. The woman takes it, sticking her tongue out as she writes in carefully scripted English.

Hi Viktor. My name is Yuuko

She slides the notebook back to Viktor and Yuuri, blushing. She taps her chin in thought before adding :

Everything ok.   
The rest she writes in Japanese, slipping back into using kanji once she realizes that Yuuri is the only one bothering to lean into read it.

Viktor tries to wait, but the two fill up a page and a half of paper and Viktor’s skin itches with impatience. He taps Yuuri’s hand, trying not to be too demanding.

“What are you saying?” He signs. Yuuri is still slotted against his side, but he feels incredibly distant.

Yuuri looks up, dazed and Viktor feels instantly guilty for being irritated.

“There’s a tsunami, but it’s small,” Yuuri signs, holding his hand a meter off the bright yellow wood floor. “There’s a chance there’s a bigger one, so we have to wait six hours. We can go back at… 1 pm.” 

“She said everything was okay!” Viktor’s heart skips a beat. The dream vacation he had imagined, complete with a fairytale engagement was quickly rotting into a nightmare.  
Yuuri just blinks at Viktor, unsure how to react to his panic. Yuuri’s hands twist into fists on his knees.  
“It’s better than what it could be.” Yuuri signs, his hands shaking. Yuuko frowns, tilting her head to the side and watching the two men with concern.

“Can we do anything?” Viktor says, hoping Yuuko understands his spoken English. He loses hope immediately when Yuuko hesitates.

“No one wants to take the time to write everything down.” Yuuri answers for Yuuko. “It’s too much work, it would slow things down.”

“That’s not fair. You wouldn’t slow down anything, I’ve seen you--” Viktor feels his anger leak into his signing, before Yuuri takes his hands, stilling them.

“It’s not about me. It’s about everyone else.” Yuuri signs. The easy resignation sparks a flame of anger in Viktor’s stomach. He knows they’re wrong, and Yuuri won’t do anything about it.

“Yuuri---” Viktor signs, giving up the moment Yuuri took his hands yet again. He slipped between his arms, resting his head against Viktor’s chest. He doesn’t need to sign it for Viktor to get the message. They are both tired, exhausted and stressed, and all Yuuri wants is the comfort of his boyfriend.  
Viktor dozes off, stretched out on the mat with Yuuri tucked into his chest until Mari prods them awake with metal bowls of rice and miso soup for breakfast.   
Yuuri is finishing drinking the soup from the bowl when three girls tumble on their mat. Viktor can feel their cheer even without hearing them, the three rosy-cheeked kids immediately picking up their crayons and messily writing a message to Yuuri. They are still in pajamas-- matching except for the colors, but seem to be in good cheer.   
Yuuri smiles, praising the girls on their artwork and their crooked hiragana.   
“Yuuko’s girls,” Yuuri signs. He’s been more verbal in their two days in Japan than the last year. It’s a side of Yuuri Viktor has rarely seen. A bit strange, considering how long it took him to open up to say his own name.  
The girls stare wide-eyed at Viktor, before scrambling to write another question on their paper pad. Yuuri reads it and laughs, blushing sweetly.

“Are you my boyfriend?” Yuuri translates directly with a coy smile. It makes Viktor’s heartbeat pleasantly and he nods. All three girls scream and burst into laughter.

Hopefully not for long. Viktor glances toward their suitcase and the ring box sitting just inside of it. Not much longer.


End file.
